One Cold Summer
by fiercegrace11
Summary: Modern: Elizabeth is a lawyer who has to live with the mistake she did when she was 18. Now she crosses paths with the accomplice to this mistake, and has to hide the consequences of that day from him.
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**

I pull my hoodie up to cover my face. Who knew England would be this cold in summer? I certainly didn't.

It's been 2 days since I arrived in England for summer vacation. In a month, I'll head to Harvard, couple of years after that I'll graduate take the bar and become an actual lawyer. My whole body tingles in anticipation for the life I'm beginning!

But today, I'm just an eighteen year old American, walking the streets of London.

I invited Aunt Gardiner to come walking with me, but she didn't want to take my little cousins out in this cold. Now I see why she looked at me like I was crazy when I went outside in only a hoodie.

Stupid English weather.

It was actually my father's idea for me to spend some weeks in England for my vacation. I would have loved to go somewhere else, another country where I could appreciate nature more instead of the crowded city that is London. But dad had a point that in London I could stay with my aunt and uncle instead of paying for a hotel. Free is always good.

My phone vibrates in my pants and I do my little dance, attempting to get it from my pants pocket before it goes to voicemail.

Stupid pockets. I don't get why women's jeans should have almost nonexistent pockets that can barely fit lint, while men jeans can fit everything. It's like a freaken Pandora's box in there!

Life is so unfair.

So my phone is still ringing and I'm still trying to retrieve it from my miniscule pockets, when I notice people are looking at me like I just came out of the crazy house. I think it's my awesome phone dance they are taking issue with. Well, I don't care what you people think, anyway!

I turn my head and hiss at them. They shoot me a terrified look and scamper off. Quickly.

Hah! I still got it…

I'm finally able to get my phone and answer it.

"Lizzy!" an excited sweet voice says from the phone.

My mood immediately went from low to high. Just hearing my sister's voice on the other end puts me in a better mood. People always assume I wouldn't like my sister because she's so much prettier than I am, and Mom is always pointing out that fact as she makes her many disappointments in me known. But they would be wrong. Jane is so sweet and so genuinely nice, I just cannot hate her.

Really, it would be easier if she was mean and catty and obnoxious, but no, Jane's not like that. She cries when she sees roadkill in the streets. A bug splat on the windshield merits at least a sob.

She's so _good_, it's disgusting

"Hi, Jane! How's Nigeria?" I ask as I run through the streets trying to find a place to hide from the cold.

"It's so great!" She says sweetly. She's a med student currently serving in the Peace Corps in Nigeria. And I repeat, that woman is good.

As she's telling me all about her patients and the children she works with in Nigeria, I find a Starbucks and duck inside.

"Hey, Jane? Do you think I can call you later? I'm about to order something." I say quickly.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry, Lizzy! I didn't know you were busy. Will you forgive me?" she ends quietly.

I laugh. Typical Jane. "No, your not bothering me and there's nothing to forgive. I'm just freezing and I found the Starbucks," I tell her, smiling through the phone. "Bye, Janie! Love you!"

Starbucks is absolutely packed. There are no free tables and I have no idea where I'm going to sit. But I'll jump that bridge when I get there. Hot beverages first. I study the menu while I'm in line, even though I already know everything they serve and I always order the same thing anyway.

Don't lie, you do the same thing.

I go to the cashier and order a hot chocolate. I can't stand the taste of coffee. Way too bitter no matter how much sugar and milk you put in.

I grab my hot chocolate and scan again for a free table. Nothing.

W_ell, I guess I'm going to have to share,_ I murmur under my breath. A guy hears me and smiles, pointing to his table. I politely decline the 40-ish guy with the creepy smile because he has been staring at my chest the whole time.

_Not even in your wet dreams! I'd rather lick Chewbacca's feet then sit beside you,_ I mumble harshly and scan the room again. I finally spot a two-person table in the corner, occupied by a guy in his mid-twenties who's just sitting there and staring into his coffee.

"Well, girls, I hope he doesn't have a fascination with you, too," I whisper down at my boobs, and head to the corner table. As I get closer, I take stock of my hopefully soon-to-be table partner: Black, midnight hair, dressed in a three-piece-suit, probably works in an office. I can't see his face yet because he's still fascinated with his coffee.

"Hey, do you think I can sit here since there's nowhere else to sit?" I ask quickly. "I mean there are other tables I can share, but between you and me, you're the lesser of two evils," I say, nodding toward the 40 year old creeper. Who is still staring at my boobs.

The man in question looks up and I almost stop breathing. His eyes are the most beautiful, piercing blue eyes I have ever seen. They are such a clear, icy blue that I want to jump in them and swim around in them forever. I have never seen such eyes.

_They must be fake._

"Dude, are you wearing contacts? You are aren't you?" I blurt out, and immediately want to take it back.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ I repeat to myself. I seriously need to buy a brain filter. I wonder if I can find one on eBay?

I take a seat at his table, not waiting for his answer.

"Excuse me?" he asks, startled. Awe. He's English and that great accent.

"Your eyes," I say, pointing to his eyes, "are they contacts?"

He looks very confused. "Is this some kind of joke?" he asks, looking around the coffee shop. "OK, where's Charlie? Come on out here, you bloody prankster!" he says, standing up from his seat.

I grab his shoulder and push him down. "No, this isn't a joke," I say. He stares at me skeptically. "OMG, I was just wondering. Geesh, dude, paranoid much?" I say, trying to get him to sit down again.

"Dude?" He grins and sits back down. "OMG?"

I scrunch my eyebrows and realize he's teasing me.

_Bastard._

I shrug my shoulders. "I'm American. I can't help the way I talk." I take a sip of my hot chocolate, ignoring the look the English guy is giving me. With those eyes.

He's cute, I'll give him that. It's a rare combo to see a guy with that dark, dark hair and such clear blue eyes. Those are some pretty good genes.

"So, Girl From America, what part are you from?"

I raise my eyebrows at this. "Girl From America?"

"Well, I don't know your name yet." He gives me a small smile and looks back down at his coffee. I get the impression that he doesn't ask a girl for her name very often. He shifts in his seat and looks back up at me.

He's shy.

"Elizabeth," I say, extending my hand for a shake. He grabs my hand and gives it a firm shake that matches the three-piece-suit he's wearing.

"Do you have a last name, Elizabeth?"

I shake my head. "My mother always warned me not to talk to strangers," I respond. "For all I know, you're an assassin or a bank robber. So I think it's better if you don't know my last name. I wouldn't want you to use it to steal my social security number. Where would I be without a identity?" I continue to tease him. "And, just so you know…" I bring my head a little closer to his, conspiratorially, and whisper, "…if you even think of offering me candy, I will run."

He looks up at me with that slightly confused look again, but starts laughing when he sees me smiling. He has a very rich laugh that seeps through your bones. He starts to look a little self-conscious and quiets his laugh.

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Elizabeth, from?..."

"Manhattan."

He nods at this, and does that shy coffee looking thing. He looks up again, smiles and finally says, "Well, Elizabeth from Manhattan… I'm William."

Little did I know that this chance meeting would change my life forever.

* * *

><p><strong>Authors note: I'll try to update every week but if you leave a review that might encourage me to update earlier. So please review! I give out virtual cake!<strong>


	2. Fairytales and Greek Stories

**Present**

**Atlanta, Georgia**

When I was young, no more then 5, something broke in the peacefulness of my parent's relationship. Screams, venom, and profanities would be yelled at each other, as their words would echo through the house. The quite night would be disrupted and postponed until one or the other would surrender, only yielding because they had no energy or desire to fight over whatever dilemma had taken effect that day. But to me it was as if the peace that would follow afterwards were fictitious, as if the faces and smiles they would give us were all pretend just for our sake. Nothing was genuine. To me the peace was all a sham, it was as if their feuds and altercations were suspended, dangling on top of our heads, ready to fall again in a moment's notice. And once the screams and shouts would start again I would know that I was right.

In these nights Jane would take my hand and lead me to my bed. She then would tuck me into bed as she crawled to the other side where she would grab the book that our mother used to read to us before bedtime.

"Don't be afraid, baby sister." 7 year old Jane would murmur trying to comfort me with her words. I already knew what she would say; she would repeat it to me every time. It would be like a calming mantra, a prayer. "Everything will be okay, Lizzy." Her platinum blond hair would look like a halo around her head and I would believe her because she would look like an angel in that precise moment. I even believed she was the angel that my mother would talk about that was looking after me, my guardian angel.

"Mom and dad love each other, they've always have, they're each other's soul mates." She would say it with so much conviction that till this day I don't know if she was trying to make me believe it or make _herself _believe it.

"What's a soul mate?" I would ask her from behind my princess blanket that my father had bought for me because as he said, 'Jane is my angel, but you are my princess.'

"Well," she would say as she tucked a blond stray piece of hair behind her ear and made herself comfortable in my bed. "Daddy says that many years ago there were these people that believed in this God named…" she would scrunch up her eyes trying to remember, I use to think she looked hilarious while making this face. "I can't remember his name but daddy says that these people believed that the humans use to have four arms and four legs, but then this god divided them and cursed them to forever walk the earth looking for their other half. That's what a soul mate is…your other half."

"I don't want to get married." I would tell Jane, "I want to live with you forever."

Jane would just sweetly smile at me. "And I don't think soul mates exist, if they did daddy and mommy aren't soul mates because they're always yelling at each other." I would defiantly tell her, and on cue the sound of something shattering would resonate through the house and the yelling would begin again.

"They are, just that daddy says that mommy has been sad and mad since she had Mary." She must have seen the confusion written in my face because she would quickly grab the book that would permanently be in our bedside. Even after I left the house I would bring it with me, reminding me of my best childhood memories. I hear another scream and Jane quickly starts to talk, "Lizzy, do you want me to read you the story of a pair of soul mates?"

I would nod my head.

"Once upon a time…." The screams of my parents would soon be forgotten as Jane would read me a fairy tale, and the sweet, melody like voice of hers would rapidly make me drift to sleep.

Now I wonder if Jane would do all that in purpose to distract me from what was really happening. Distract me from hearing and seeing the postpartum episodes of my mother. The worried look of my father at the sight of his wife crumbling into depression and seeing the hatred aimed at her own children.

I remember that was the first time I heard a Greek story. From the mouth of my beloved sister Jane, Jane of course at the age of 7 didn't know that the story she was telling me was actually a Greek story. She was only trying to comfort me from what was happening.

And as I look up at the night sky right now I can't help but smile at the thought that I actually believed Jane was an angel, or at the very least from the stars. I couldn't wrap the idea around my head that someone so gentle, so kind, could be human.

"What's its origin?" A honey-like voice asks. I tilt my head and see black hair and bright blue eyes standing close to where I'm laying down.

Olivia.

She's wearing a white dress with a blue coat over it, her black boots protecting her from the cold. The way she's standing reminds me of a bird jumping through trees, a white bird with a black crown on top of its head.

I clear my throat as the story that's been engraved in my head since I was a little girl starts to flow through my lips. "It is said that their once lived a beautiful nymph named Callisto, her beauty was so grand that whoever saw her quickly fell in love with her." I don't turn my head to see if she's paying attention because I know she is, my full focus is in the stars that glow through the vast dark sky. "But she had sworn a vow of chastity to the goddess Artemis. One day Zeus saw the beautiful nymph and fell deeply in love with her. Soon after they had a son named Arcas." Here I stop as I remember Jane telling me this story from the roof of our vacation home in the mountains of West Virginia. "Of course Artemis was really mad that Callisto had broken her vow she even banished her, but Hera was the one who was seething angry since she was the wife of Zeus. She was so angry of her husband's cheating ways that she turned Callisto into a bear. Callisto roamed the woods for years until her son Arcas found her; of course he didn't know that she was his mother, so he tried to kill her. Seeing this Zeus intervened and turned him into a bear. He put them both in the night sky where he transformed them into the Big Bear and the Little Bear. In other words they got transformed into the Big Dipper and Little Dipper."

I remember Jane's gentle voice turning sad as she hit the end of the story. She hated sad endings.

"I don't like Greek stories they're so…illogical." I hear James say as he stands up and walks towards us from a chair that was a few feet away that was hidden from my sight. He quickly sits beside me in the blanket I'm laying in that I put in our backyard so we could stargaze.

I love these nights. The way the grass feels underneath my fingers, the way the stars shine in the night sky, and the way the breeze makes me want to curl even further into the blanket I brought out. And what makes this night even more special is the fact that it is fall -my favorite season of all- It's not warm and it's not cold.

Plus, fall brings with it one of my favorite scents. I love the way just stepping outside the door fills my lungs with that wonderful smell of cold air, mixed with leaves, and a hint of winter.

And winter definitely has a scent.

"Well I love Greek stories." Olivia declares from beside me breaking me away from my thoughts. "It shows you a glimpse of what the culture might have been like in ancient Greece."

"Isn't stories starting with 'once upon a time' and ending with 'and they lived happily ever after' more your brand?" David teasingly asks her as he exits from the backdoor of the house carrying with him a bag of chips.

She only rolls her eyes at him. "Even though I prefer Greek stories I do love the Native Americans origin story for the Big Dipper better. Will you tell it to us?" She turns around to lye in her side; her eyes implore me to tell them the story again.

I hear the sounds of the city far away but here in this little land that I call my backyard the buzz of the insects travel through the air. I love the sound of Atlanta when it's night, the sound of the city mixed with the sounds of nature.

"Well," I begin "The Big Dipper is actually a Mama Bear followed by her three cubs; they are running because they are being hunted. And sometimes in the fall due to how the Earth is tilt The Big Dipper constellation looks closer to us. It is said that that's the reason why the leaves in fall are red, because the mama bear is hurt and her blood is dripping down to earth, thus turning the leaves red."

James grunts, "see, illogical. I cannot tell you how many things are wrong with that story."

"That's us, right mommy?" Olivia asks ignoring her brother as she comes and cuddles beside me, resting her head in my shoulder.

"Yes honey, you three are my cubs." I take my time to look at her as she looks at the night sky with her mesmerizing blue eyes hidden under her glasses. Her wavy black hair is tucked under the beanie I made her wear to protect her from the breeze. The baby of my family how beautiful she is.

I turn around to see that David is sitting beside his brother talking non-stop. His green eyes are filled with excitement as he animatedly tells him about something that happened in soccer practice. James in the other hand looks stoic and irritated; he rolls his blue eyes at his brother while he tries to make his black hair stay in place as the breeze plays with it.

My children they're my life. I don't know what I would do without them.

When I first learned I was pregnant I panicked, I didn't know what I was going to do with them. I actually decided to put them up for adoption; I even met up with this nice couple who was going to adopt them. I had the paperwork and everything ready to go by the time I gave birth.

I will never forget the face of my mother when I told her I was pregnant. The pure look of horror at the realization her Lizzie was pregnant at 18 and with no idea who the father was. 'The embarrassment, what would the neighbors say?' she yelled.

I knew who the father was. The thing was that I had no idea what his last name was.

But the worst was seeing the look of disappointment in my father's face.

My mother begged me to have an abortion, but I wouldn't, I couldn't. So she said if I wouldn't I should leave…so I did. And what hurt me the most was that my father didn't stop me, he just locked himself in his office and never talked to me again.

I was accepted to Harvard, and I didn't want to give it up just because I was pregnant. So I postponed it until I gave birth. I knew I couldn't raise them all by myself and give them the life they deserved, so I put them up for adoption.

When I finally gave birth the nurse told me that it was rare to have triplets naturally, that it was a miracle. But I didn't want to hold them, didn't want to see them, I didn't want to see what I was giving away.

I cried and begged Jane not to show them to me, but at the end Jane convinced me otherwise, she said I would always wonder how they looked and or what gender they were. So I took a peek and what I saw took my breath away.

The first one I saw was James, quite contemplative James. Dark black hair was growing in his head, and when he opened his eyes it was like I was seeing William. The next one was David the same black hair as his brother but with different eye color, green. He was smiling up at me or what I thought was a smile and all I could think about was that he didn't know that I was giving him away, nor did he know that his father left him and his mother was also about to do the same thing and leave him in some minutes. The next one was my only girl, Olivia who also looked exactly like her father.

I cried, I cried like I had never cried that day. I had given birth to the miniature versions of William.

I couldn't, give them away. I just couldn't, I would be doing the same exact thing as their father…leaving.

And even though none of them inherited my brown curly hair or my brown eyes, they were mine. They looked exactly like their father, but they were mine.

Only mine.

The nurse came in with the adoption papers but I couldn't sign, they were mine.

And I knew in that moment that it was always going to be the four of us together vs. the world.

It was hard raising them, but Jane and Charlotte were their each step of the way. It became easier when Charlotte graduated and had more time to help. It also helped a lot when Mary and Jane moved in with me. We worked on a schedule so one of us could always be with them.

Of course I never got to go to Harvard. Instead I moved to Georgia where I got into a college that let me have a flexible schedule. And after some years I got accepted into law school.

That was all 11 years ago.

Now the triplets are 10.

"Actually," I hear James say breaking me away from my thoughts. "The Big Dipper is not a constellation, it's actually an asterism."

Of course he would know that.

"Mom," I hear David whine. "I don't want to move to New York." He pouts as he tells me this.

Oh yeah, _that_. "Don't you want to see Auntie Jane, Mary, Kitty, and Lydia?" I ask him. I have already told him a million times the reasons why we have to move to New York.

Reason 1- Jane, Charlotte and the rest of my family are there.

Reason 2- I just got a job in Manhattan.

Reason 3- My mother just called after 11 years asking me to move there. Apparently she wanted to meet the kids.

Reason 4- Jane is there…enough said.

But I get his hesitance in moving. Atlanta has always been their home, the place where they were born and raised. This is their home.

"You'll love Manhattan; there are a lot of places to see. Trust me I was raised there." I tell him trying to call him down and accept the idea that were moving.

Because like it or not were moving.

* * *

><p><strong>NYC, New York<strong>

I try to steady the Hot Chocolate as I make my way through the crowded streets towards the courthouse. I had forgotten how cold New York could get in the fall; I'm not a big fan of Siberian-Arctic-Like-Weather. At 29 I'm getting old, or at least what I think is old since my joints start to hurt in the cold.

I put on my sunglasses to block out the sun that is doing nothing to heat me up, or maybe I've just gotten use to the warm climate of the south. It's probably that, since it seems I'm the only one who is bundled up in a thick jacket and cursing the cold weather. Or maybe the sun is heating up everyone else except me. But mostly cursing the sun who insists in just being in the sky for decoration and not doing its job, instead is burning my -I've-Only-Had-Two-Hours-Of-Sleep-Last-Night- eyes. I went to bed at 5 and got up at 7 just for the sole reason to wake up the kids and make it seem like I had my crap together thus why I'm in charge, even if I'm only waking myself up 5 minutes before them. Yep, two hours of sleep all because I'm the newbie in the firm so everyone has made me the 'paperwork girl' thinking they have the right to dump their workload on me. Hence my dark eye bags and crappy mood. Not cool dudes, not cool.

Plus the crappy sunglasses I bought in an even crappier gas station off of I-95 while coming up here are getting me in an even crappier mood. They're not helping me in absolutely nothing; the sun is still burning my eyes. Worst two dollars I've ever spent!

I grab the door to courthouse and open it midway before I stop and look up at the sun who is not doing its job correctly "This is why we don't pay you, you decorative painted slut." I grumble as I glare up at the sun. But I shouldn't have stopped since someone collides in front of me as I finish saying these words. And the moment we collide I spill my hot chocolate all over his wrinkle free suit.

Just great, I have hot chocolate all over my favorite shirt. I look down at myself as I inspection the damage done. Nothing Tide can't fix, but for now this shirt is ruined. Good thing I made Lydia bring me my 'lawyer' clothes to change into in the bathroom.

I hear a mutter of profanities come from the man I just collided with. "Hold on a second Andrea a homeless woman just spilled something all over me." He says harshly to the person in the other end of the phone.

A homeless what? I mean I can't look that bad, I look down to see what I'm wearing: my comfy jeans and shirt. Oh yeah and my oversized jacket because my good jackets are still packed safely in their boxes. And since I'm too busy to unpack and find them my father's old jacket it is. I don't think I look that bad, I've worn worse. And yes, my hair is in a messy bun, but seriously? Homeless? Now that's just a big exaggeration.

"I am _so_ sorry." I embarrassingly tell him as I try to find napkins that I know should be in my purse since I just saw some minutes ago when I was trying to find my phone. I would be an embarrassment to motherhood if I don't have napkins. _All _mothers carry napkins.

"Do you know how much this shirt costs?" He hollers at me with an accent as he pinches the bridge of his nose. Clearly he has lost all his patience.

He's English. Awe, that explains it all. Apparently I have a built in magnet that attracts English jerks to my vicinity.

"Are you deaf, or just stupid?" He asks at my lack of response.

This quickly snaps me into attention. Did he just call me stupid? I can be a lot of things but I am not stupid. My temper quickly flares up. This week has been a handful. Getting the kids into school, starting a new job, plus moving into the apartment, it has been stressful. So yes I'm in a bad mood. I was hoping my hot chocolate would put me in a better attitude but this man just took that opportunity away. My blood starts to boil at this pretentious man calling me stupid. And I know bygones, kumbaya, 'world peace dude' exc. exc. I'm all up for peace but not today.

But then I hear Jane's voice in my head, repeating what she tells me every time my temper flares up, 'what kind of example are you putting your kids?'

I breathe in as I look up at the man waiting for my answer, his eyes covered by a pair of sunglasses. "No, but I think you are." I tell the brute standing in front of me with his Dolce & Gabbana suit drenched in hot chocolate. "This door is to _enter_, see _enter_." I tell him with the same tone I would use with a five year old, as I point to the sign that clearly states that this door is an entrance. "_Not_ an exit." I resist the urge to call him an idiot.

His nostrils flare. Great, now I made him mad. "You know what? I don't have time for this," I tell him as I go back to looking in my purse, I smile when I find what I'm looking for. "This will cover dry-cleaning." I say as I throw some bills at him. I turn around to walk away from him but think better of it since I should be the better adult here. "And good day to you," I say sweetly trying to copy Jane's tone.

"You arrogant asshole." I murmur as I turn around saying it just loud enough for him to hear it.

And as I walk to work I know I have a smile plastered in my face in triumph.

* * *

><p>The memory of Jane reading me to sleep plays in my head. It's in a never ending loop, like if it was a broken record, playing in repeat.<p>

I don't know why I keep thinking of this memory.

"Do you want me to read you a story?" I ask Olivia who is nestled in the crooked of my arm drifting off to sleep as I try to finish the last of my work. Her blue eyes immediately go wide in full alert and excitement. It's been a long time since I've read her anything, too busy with work.

"Can you read me this?" She asks timidly as she lifts herself from my bed to look at my bookshelf. She quickly finds what she's looking for and jumps back into bed as she hands me the thick Fairy Tale Book that Jane used to read to me and I used to read to her. "I actually love these stories even if David says they're childish." A blush creeps into her pale cheeks and it immediately brings a smile to my lips.

I open the book, letting my fingers trail trough the worn out pages and letting the old book smell engulf my nostrils. "Once upon a time, in a land far, far away their lived..." and as I read her the story I can't help but remember how I used to love these stories: The stories of the Princess and the Prince, Dragons and Knights, Kings and Queens. I remember how these stories would make me drift to peaceful sleep.

I use to love fairytales. And afterwards I use to love Greek stories. I use to love opening a book and loosing myself in it. I wanted to be in a relationship like those I read about in fairytales, finding the man that would fight for me even if it meant fighting the dragon or the evil witch. I also wanted to be in a relationship like those I read in Greek stories. And I tried to find that in William.

But I should have known…

Fairytales don't exist and Greek stories end in tragedy.


	3. Princess Ariel and MI6 Agent

"Why Elizabeth, you look absolutely _dreadful!_ You should get more meat in your bones!" Was the first thing my mother said in her southern drawl when she opened the door.

That's my mother for you, second time she sees her daughter in ten years and the first thing she tells her is that she's looks _dreadful._

This was the reason why I didn't want to come visit her today...or any day for that matter. But I did promise her that she would meet the kids today.

"You are absolutely skinny! You have no boobs no butt, giving birth gives a women a fuller body, but it looks like you just got thinner! You're just skin and bones! Did you breastfeed? I hear that makes a person lose weight and even more for you, poor thing breast feeding three at the same time. You have a boy's body! How do you expect to find a man? It's already difficult with you being a single mother, but men like things they can grab. And you sweetie have nothing to grab."

Francine Bennet born and bred in the south, a true southern belle. Lived in Charleston, South Carolina her whole life until she met my father who was visiting the university she was in to give a conference, after that she grabbed on to him like a leech and didn't let him go.

She is the reason why people think blondes are stupid.

I shouldn't talk bad about my mother she does have her good qualities, she loves Jane and Lydia with her whole life. And anyone who can see is able to tell that she loves my father profoundly.

But everyone who can see can tell that she is the epitome of vain, shallow and dense. I secretly think she hates me. She's always compared me to Jane and Lydia always saying how I'm not pretty enough like Jane or likable enough like Lydia. Even though I still have my doubts about Lydia being likable.

The thing about my mother is that she pretends we're rich, which we're not. And her biggest desire in life is to be rich, since she didn't marry a millionaire or a billionaire her life goal is to marry off her five daughters to rich men.

Unfortunately for her all of her five daughters are single.

Jane tells me that every day she mentions to her that she will die without grandbabies, which is absurd since I gave her three. But in my mother's small mind she doesn't have grandchildren. You see she doesn't really want grandchildren what she really wants is something she can brag and show off to the neighbors. She wants to brag about how her grandbabies are sons or daughters of rich important men.

With mine she can't do that since I'm not married and I had my children when I was a teenager. Even though I was out of high school at that time, and I was officially an adult since I was 18. Then there's the tiny problem that I don't even know where my child's father is at.

Plus she thinks the father of the triplets is an unemployed thug.

...A homeless unemployed thug...

I really don't mind her ignoring the triplets since I don't want my children being objects or prizes that my mother can show off like if this was some kind of dog show.

"Come on Elizabeth, get inside the house and bring in my grandbabies!" She squeals tugging my arm so I can step inside my childhood home while trying to see behind me to get a glimpse of her grandkids.

"Thomas!" My mother hollers, "come down here Lizzy is home!"

My mother has no manners what's so ever, and I think she has a built in mechanism that turns on every time I'm around just so she can embarrass me.

"Thomas!" She starts screaming walking up the stairs trying to find my father.

Probably hiding in his office, like always.

"Wow, nice house." David says whistling stepping inside the three story house of my parents.

I actually thought really hard of coming here, especially with bringing David along. I told my mother we could meet in the apartment I'm renting but she said that she wanted her grandbabies to see where I grew up.

Knowing my mother she wanted to brag and show them that this would never be theirs, that they would never be heirs to this place. I wouldn't doubt for a second my mother wouldn't tell them that my father would never put them in his will.

"Don't touch anything, don't break anything….better yet don't even breath in anything." I whisper to my middle child.

David has a tendency to get into trouble. Wherever we go he always causes problems it's like if trouble follows him around. Plus he has a mouth that no one can shut up and I don't doubt for a minute that if my mother says something offensive David will say something even more offensive.

Unfortunately that's just the way he is.

The doctor diagnosed him with ADHD which is a medical term that means that he cannot sit still and will always be causing trouble.

But at least I feel better that my son has an excuse to act the way he does.

When David was born the first thing he did was look up at me and smile. When Charlotte saw this she said he was destined for trouble.

She was so right.

"It hurts that you doubt me." He replies with a big grin in his face, his bright green eyes dancing with humor. "I think you shouldn't worry about me that much and worry more about hermit crab and Nanny McPhee." He says nodding towards Olivia and James who are walking shyly inside the house.

"For the last time don't call your brother and –"

"Whoa, who's the overgrown grape? And what type of fertilizer is she using?" David says starring at something in the stairs.

I'm about to yell at him when I see what got his attention, it's my mother coming down the stairs with my father and now that I see her I can tell why David called her a grape. My mother is short and chubby -just like a grape- and it doesn't help that she is wearing a purple dress.

"Be nice." I whisper pulling David's ear.

"Owe, child abuse I'm calling 911!" He says limping away as he shields himself behind James who only shakes his head in annoyance.

David is so dramatic. Jane says he inherited his dramatic flare from me, which is so not true.

"Why are you limping? I pulled your ear not your leg!"

"Well you pulled it hard! I think you damaged a vein that went from my ear to leg, tell them Olive that what I said can actually happen." He says turning to his sister who is too entranced with her book.

"You're an idiot David." She responds without taking her gaze off of her book.

"Olive put that book down." I say taking the book from her hands, "David don't laugh at her and please don't do nothing to embarrass me," he opens his mouth to protest but I cut him off. "And James," I say turning to my oldest who is shifting uncomfortably where he's standing. He looks up at me with those icy blue eyes that remind me so much of his father "please try to smile."

He frowns at that.

"Lizzie sweetie you want to introduce me to your beautiful children?"

I turn around and see my mom and dad looking at me curiously.

"Yes this is…"I try to think of who I should introduce first (or better yet who would embarrass me less), but I'm beaten by David who steps up to them first.

"Grandma! Grandpa!" David yells running to my parents giving them each a tight hug, "it's been so long since I last saw you, I was like a tiny embryo huh? But I still remember you guys!" He says giving them his famous smile, then he starts sniffing them.

Literally, sniffing them.

Oh this can't be good.

"Wow this is great! I thought you guys would smell like old people but you don't!" David says laughing.

Oh this is really not good. I look at my mother to see how she will react. She looks shocked, she cannot believe he just said that but then she starts laughing when she sees him smiling. No one can hate David with that smile he has.

"I am his majesty king of awesomeness but you can call me David." He says bowing down in front of my parents and grabbing my mother's hand and kissing her hand making my mother blush.

I roll my eyes at this; He even winks at my mom making her blush more profoundly.

"I can see where I get my good looks from, you are beautiful grandma." He says turning around and grinning at me.

Now this is a total lie. David looks nothing like my parent,s my dad is a Brown eyed brunette while my mom is a blue eyed blonde. Totally different from green eyed, black hair David.

But I got to give it to the kid he sure knows how to win people over. I don't know why I was so nervous of David meeting my parents. Maybe he was right and I had to be more worried about James and Olive.

"If I may ask," David says quickly "what fertilizer do you use?"

Oh yeah that's why.

"Excuse me?" My mother asks confused.

"Don't listen to him I dropped him when he was a baby." I say to my mother while grabbing David by the arm and trying to put him as far away from my parents as possible.

"And who are the other two?" My father asks, his knowing gaze switching from Olive to James.

"Oh my you must be Olive!" My mother screeches in enthusiasm, her southern accent changing Olives name completely. "Why you're so beautiful! Just like my Lydia!" She squeals joyfully.

I cringe at this. Olive is nothing like Lydia. Lydia is a loudmouth red head with brown eyes. Nothing like quite, blue eye, black hair Olive.

If Olive looks like Lydia then I'm Fidel Castro.

My mother's eye sparkle with something, definitely pride at the beauty of her grandchild. I can already see her thinking about my daughters' future wedding to some rich handsome guy.

"Why look at your hair! Such a rich black color I bet your daddy was some kind of tall, dark, handsome, exotic fella; Your momma couldn't stay away from those types of men!"

Oh no my mother just did not bring up _that_ discussion.

I look nervously at my children to see if they look hurt by this but they look completely oblivious to what she said.

"Why you're just so beautiful Olive!" My mother squeals giving Olive an embrace. I see Olives eyes widen at this action I take a step towards her to remove Olive from this hug because if it's something that I know is that Olive is not big on PDA. The only person she hugs is me, and only because I gave birth to her and she's been living with me for her whole life.

"Beautiful in what way? In a superficial what society thinks is the individuation of beauty? Or the definition of beauty which would be the, possessing qualities that give great pleasure or satisfaction to see, hear, think about? Which of course would be improbable because you just met me and you have no idea how I talk and or think. Which leads me to theorize that it's more of the idealistic view of society of the concept of beauty; my clear eyes or the high of cheekbones or even my dark features." Olive says clearly oblivious to the reactions that her words had on my mother whose mouth is wide open and my father's eyes are sparkling of humor.

"Thank you Olivia for that nice…..uh…speech." I say as I back her away from my mother's unforgiving gaze and shield her with my body. My mother obviously thinks Olive was talking back.

"Why I never, Lizzie you should teach your daughter to hold her tongue I see she inherited that from you." Her eyes glaring at Olive who is now behind me.

"Well I had to inherit it from someone." I snap, glaring daggers at my mother.

Clearly my mother lost interest in Olive when she opened her mouth and said something smart. She was expecting another Lydia but none of my children have any of the Bennet family personalities and my mother clearly can see that.

They're all exactly like their father.

I think my father could sense the tension in the air because he quickly looks at James.

"And who are you?"

"I'm William James," he says stepping forward "but you can call me James, Sir."

Well at least he remembered his manners.

My father gives him once over look and then looks at Olivia and James with a knowing gaze, and then he looks at me and smiles.

Does he know? Does he know that James is the living breathing identical copy of his father. Does he know Olivia is the female version of her father? By the way his gaze shifts from Olivia to James he must know.

"Well, come here boy." My father said motioning for him to go to him, his arms extended to give him a hug. I could see the hesitation in James part, he dislikes attention and more coming from people he believes are strangers.

But he mostly hates hugs, he's just like his sister in that way. I think it must come from Williams side since I'm a very touchy-feely and affectionate person, I love giving hugs. And coming from a large family you get use to the idea of showing and receiving displays of affection.

My father is about to give him a hug when James extends his arm and gives him a handshake and then goes to my mother and gives her a handshake as well.

I groan at this.

This cannot be happening.

"Told you anti-social. Hermit Crab." David whispers to me.

Yeah I think, exactly like his socially awkward father.

I hear something break. Well, my day cannot get any worse.

All heads turn and right there in the living room is David standing over a broken vase.

How the hell did that kid get from my side to over there so quickly?

"He did it!" David blurts out, pointing at James who is all the way to the other end of the room.

My mother screeches, my father yells, and James snickers and I think I even hear a slow dying moans of patience.

Oh wait, no that's my patience. The _one_ thing I tell that boy not to do and he does it.

"Oh, Thomas! I'm having heart palpitations!" My mother screams.

"A tarantula can live more than two years without eating." I blurt out and quickly clamp my hand over my mouth.

Great Lizzy you're back to your parents' house and your back to being the same girl who blurts out things when she's nervous.

My father chuckles, "well I see you haven't changed a thing Lizzy." He says with a smile in his face. "Come on Fanny I think we have to set up dinner." He gently tugs my mother away as he helps her stand up from where she's sitting in the floor crying over her vase.

She glares at David while standing up, so much for my mother liking David.

"I'm so grounded aren't I?" He asks looking at me with his big green eyes.

"Oh yeah you sure are your majesty king of awesomeness." I say with humor in my voice while grabbing his hand and going to the dining room making sure that he doesn't touch anything else.

"Well I think that went just perfect." James murmurs.

* * *

><p>The ride back home was quite to say the least, David once he got into the car fell asleep and James immediately put his earphones on; A clear sign that he didn't want to talk, Olive was lost in her own thoughts as she starred out the window.<p>

"Mom?" Olive whispers as were getting close to our home.

"Yes sweetie?" I ask never taking my eyes off the road.

"I know you don't like to talk about it, but..." her voice drifts off as she looks at the cars and cabs passing by. "Do you think one day I will meet my dad?"

I look in the rearview mirror again, shocked by what she just asked. That was not what I was expecting her to ask. When the triplets were smaller and started to ask why all the kids from school had fathers and they didn't I calmly explained to them that they _did_ have a father but he lived very far away. They never asked after that. which I thought was weird, but hey better for me.

I take a look at her, my baby, my beautiful baby girl who looks even smaller as she looks up at me with her icy blue eyes full of tears; I curse my mother for reminding my kids that they have an absent father.

And I curse even more William who got me pregnant, but most of all I curse my own stupidity for getting myself pregnant in the first place.

I look at her again and notice that James is taking his earphones off making me believe that he was never listening to music, but he looks different then Olive who is crying.

He looks mad.

"We don't need that man Olive." He says to her wrapping his arms around her shoulders. They don't like hugs and they hate giving them out, but when it comes to each other I know my children will be their for each other. I hear Olive quietly sobbing as James whispers stuff to her and then finally she gets quite and starts to nod.

The sight is making me start to cry so I look back to the road. The road becoming blurry due to my tears but I try to hold them back as much as possible not wanting James and Olive to see. I just have to make it to the apartment and my room and I can just let the tears fall.

When I finally make it to my room I lock the room and throw myself in my bed soaking my pillow with my tears.

My children will never have a father because of my stupid decisions.

I hate myself so much right now.

But it was Williams's decision to leave me. He left me in the most humiliating way. Sure he doesn't know about the children but he left me so he walked out on all of us.

He probably even has his own family by now.

I hear my phone ring.

Just great! Who is the idiot who interrupts me when I'm in the middle of my self-pity?

"Hello?" I answer, my voice coming out hoarsely.

"Lizzy are you all right?" My sisters sweet voice responds with worry.

I groan. I really don't need her rainbows and unicorns personality right now, all I want is to sit here in my depressed mood. And maybe binge watch a show in Netflix.

"Yeah I'm fine, what's up?" I lie.

She hesitates and I know Jane so well, right now she must be thinking if to ask me again if I'm all right and make me talk it out or just go straight to whatever reason she called me for. She chooses the latter.

"Well, I called to ask you for a favor."

I groan again. Whenever Jane asks for a favor it means it's a big favor because she never bothers anyone with small favors. She only bothers people when she really needs a person's help.

"Sure I'll help what is it?"

"Do you still have your lunch break at 12 tomorrow?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Well…." Jane says hesitantly.

I can tell by her voice that I won't like what she is going to ask me.

"Spit it out Jane I have to go check on the kids, I haven't heard anything break in the last minutes."

"Well, I met this guy and he asked me out for lunch tomorrow at 12 but the hospital just called and told me I have a scheduled surgery at that time. But I don't have his number to cancel, so I was wondering if you could go in my place and give him my number so we can reschedule." She says quickly.

What! Since when is my sister having dates with random guys? Last time I did that I ended up pregnant with triplets!

No. Nope. Not happening.

"What! Jane this guy for all we know could be a rapist or…or…. A murderer! Or worse, a rapist murderer! Oh my god what if he's like those guys we see in tv who are creepy. Obsessed with weird stuff! For all we know maybe he likes dressing like a big baby! Jane this is not okay!" I yell.

"Oh hush Lizzy, stop being so dramatic, he's nice and sweet. I met him in a fundraiser the hospital did."

"Great, so he's rich. Rich people are bad news Jane, they think they're superior to everyone. Rich men just like to use women."

"Well….there's something else Lizzie." She says it so quietly that I can barely hear her.

I know this could not get any worse then what I've already heard.

"What is it?"

"Well he's… he's…"

"He's what Jane?"

"He's English!" She blurts out, I hear a slap through the phone probably Jane covering her mouth.

Apparently it _can_ get worse.

I'm quite for the longest time, not knowing how to respond. My sister is going on a date with an English man.

Not good.

Not good at all.

I have to break this before she gets her heart broken like I did.

"Jane you do know British guys are jerks? Right?"

"Lizzy you're just prejudice, he's different, he's nothing like William. Why don't you go tomorrow and check him out yourself?"

I scowl at this. I am not prejudice and I'll prove it to her.

"Ok, fine." I bitterly reply.

"Yay!"

"But, I just want to tell you that this is going to end badly. He is English and I swear those English people are still mad at us for dropping there damn tea in Boston"

This makes her laugh. We talk for a little while more and she gives me the details of the restaurant and the name of the guy. Some Charles Bingley, his name sounds familiar.

He has a weird name...must be a creep.

No Lizzy stop it! You're not prejudice, maybe he's nice guy.

As I hung up I notice that it has been quite. By now there's usually noise. I hurry out my room to look for them and find them all sitting in a circle in the floor talking and eating. They haven't noticed me yet.

"We don't need to know who he is!" James says practically yelling.

"He's right Olive if that man has not tried to find us, why should we try to find him?" David responds.

My breath catches in my throat. Olive wants to find William.

This is not good.

"Because I want to see how he looks like. Don't you want to know who he is? Don't you want to find out if you eat like him or if you talk like him or if you both have the same likes and dislikes? Don't you want to know that?" She looks down at what they're eating, "don't you want to know if you have the same taste of soda or if he… he likes hotdogs? Or even how he likes his coffee?" Olive pleads with her brothers.

"No I don't, I don't want to know. If he doesn't want to find us or know about us we shouldn't either." James yells, "and even if he wanted to see us I wouldn't want to see him. Where was he these past 10 years of our lives? Hmm? Where was he when you were scarred there was a monster underneath your bed?" He stops yelling when he sees Olive crying, he sighs as he gets closer to her wrapping her in a hug. If it's something that I admire James for it is his love for his siblings "Where was he when you had father daughter dances at your school? Where was he then?" His voice now a whisper.

"But you know who was there? Mom, she was there all the time clapping in the sidelines to all our achievements. If she doesn't want to talk to us about him we should respect that." David says coming to hug his little sister.

"I just want to meet him." The pain in her voice palpable.

I step to where the triplets are.

My children.

Not Williams.

But mine.

"He likes mountain dew." I whisper.

They turn around and look at me, all three of their faces looking guilty at being caught talking about the men who left us. I look at Olive who is holding her bottle of Mountain Dew, "And he prefers tea then coffee, but when he does drink coffee," I sit beside the three of them, "he likes it black."

Just as bitter as he is.

Olive smiles up to me tightening her grip on her soda like if it was a line to her father, "What about hotdogs?" She asks, clearly she's happy at knowing anything about her father.

I never knew she had so much curiosity of knowing who he was, what kind of mother am I? What other things do I not know about my youngest child?

"I- I- I don't know." I stammer looking down at my hands. I can't really tell them that I only knew their father for a week.

"He left me before I had time to learn that about him." I look up at them,they're all silent.

There it is, my admittance that their father left me. "But you can ask me whatever you want and I'll try to answer." I reassure them.

_Yeah that's good, compromise with them. It's better than them trying to go find him._

"Do we look like him?" Olive asks eagerly.

I roll my eyes at that.

"Obviously, or what? You really think this is my natural hair color?" I ask as I tug on my dyed black hair.

9 years ago I decided to dye my natural dark brown hair to jet black and straighten my curly hair every day. It was a personal decision and one that I don't regret. Their was so much I could tolerate of strangers coming up to me in supermarkets or in restaurants telling me how my children must of inherited their fathers dark locks. I didn't want my children to keep being reminded that their father was not in the picture anymore.

"Do I look like him? Who looks like him more? Do I act like him? Why does David have green eyes and we don't?" Olive says jumping up from where she was sitting but still clutching tightly to her soda. "What's his favorite movie? Does he like rock or country? Or maybe he was more of a pop music kind of guy? Ooohh I know! Indie rock, yeah I always imagined dad to like indie rock music." She says rapidly.

Dad? Since when did she start calling him dad?

James and David must have thought the same thing because they jumped up from where they were sitting.

"Olive that man left us do you understand that?" David asks as he grabs her arm.

Olive looks at me for a response; I can tell from her eyes that she's imploring me to tell her that what David just said isn't true.

"He left me." I whisper, "but he left me with the greatest gift he could ever give me." I add quickly when I see more tears coming up in my little girls eyes. "He left me with you guys, and for that I'm thankful to him"

James and David hurry to where I'm sitting to hug me, I look up at Olive who has tears in her eyes I extend my hand at her and she takes it and we all sit there for what seems like hours. Just hugging and comforting each other.

* * *

><p>I can't believe I'm doing this, is all I can think as I walk inside the restaurant Jane sent me to.<p>

My one hour from work and I have to spend it with a Brit.

Maybe I am prejudice like Jane said. I wonder if there's a support group for that or maybe a rehab center.

The restaurant is high end. I bet this Bingley guy has money. Because I know this place cannot be paid by a single mom like me, even if I am a lawyer. I can smell expensive when I see it and this place is definitely expensive.

Expensive chairs, check.

Expensive chandeliers, check.

Expensive looking centerpieces that look like freaking abnormal trees, check.

If I brought James, David, and Olive here how long would it take me to get thrown out of this place? I bet 10 minutes if I'm with David. If I'm just with James and Olive I give it 20 minutes before they annoy the waiters. I don't think ten year olds fit in the image of this high end restaurant; I glance around the restaurant and find no children. Just as I thought. Maybe they would allow children if they were sons and daughters of important people, or if they had a long list of exceptional pedigree in their blood.

My kids have none.

I should remember to order something for them before I leave. Just to give them a taste of the food they cook here. Even though I doubt they would like it. They're more happy with chicken nuggets and fries...or at least David is.

I stop a waitress so she can show me where Charles Bingley is at and she quickly points me to a table outside where a red head is sitting in the patio with another man whose back is to me.

Great now I have to spend my lunch break outside in the sun. I walk to where they're at and I immediately put my sunglasses on. Another day with a sun who doesn't want to do it's job properly.

As I get closer I start thinking that this would be a great time to inspect and evaluate this Bingley guy. People show who they truly are when they think no one is looking...or hearing.

Bingley is obviously the red headed man. He looks like Jane's type. He's smiling and when he smiles wrinkles form close to his eyes, it's a great sign since it means he smiles a lot. Plus it means that he's not a rapist murderer, since well I doubt rapist murderers smile. Do rapist murderers smile? Maybe a creepy smile, but this guy doesn't look creepy.

He looks more like a hyperactive puppy by the way he's always smiling.

A puppy who has a goofy smile.

The man sitting in front of him looks stiff, like if he was uncomfortable here. He kind of reminds me of a special agent, like if he worked for the C.I.A or maybe he's an MI6 agent.

He has black hair.

Ugh, I have a hate/love relationship with people who have natural black hair. On one side I love them since my children have natural jet black hair, but on the other side I hate them since William has black hair.

_That_ man ruined my view of a lot of things.

The red head kind of reminds me of Princess Ariel from the little mermaid (bright red hair with hyperactive personality.).

I've never liked red heads, they send me a weird vibe ever since the red headed bitch of Judith Grinchen told me in kindergarten that my face looked like boogers and thus didn't want to be my friend. At that time her words hurt me. Nothing could be more meaner then telling a 5 year old you didn't want to be their friend.

But like my dad had taught me: sticks and stones may hurt my bones but words would never hurt me. I like any other curious 5 year old out there put that saying to a test, and in deed sticks and stones can hurt a person.

Judith Grichen never called me a booger-face after that.

That was the first time that I got suspended from school, but it wouldn't be my last. The second time was when Judith Grinchen was teasing a special-ed student. So of course I attacked her, and after that the majority of the times I got suspended was for smart talking a teacher or beating up kids for picking on Jane.

What I'm trying to say is that red heads are the spawn of the devil and I don't trust them. So of course my sweet sister Jane had to fall for a red headed English guy. Even if he does have a nice smile.

I get closer to where Princess Ariel is talking to the MI6 agent to see if I can hear what they're talking about.

Princess Ariel seems _too_ nice to be true. I've learned that if something sounds or looks to good to be true its probably because it's not true.

But other then looking suspiciously nice, he looks all right. And I'm not just saying that because he looks great in what he's wearing. Even though I do give him points for being dressed impeccably in a suit. Armani for sure.

I've never met a guy so impeccably dress; no wrinkle, no stain.

Well, William did dress like that the first time I met him. But I'm pretty sure he dressed like that because he had a job interview or something. Plus this Bingley guy is different because he's smiling! William hardly smiled.

There's definitely something wrong with this Bingley, no guy could be that happy and good dressed. I'm just not sure what's wrong yet. I stand there confused when I hear something that snaps me to attention.

"Jane is an angel; I can't wait for you to meet her. She has beautiful blond hair and gorgeous dark blue eyes." Princess Ariel says lovingly, "I'm telling you Darcy she's perfect!"

I think I like this guy. I've never heard a guy talk like that before. Usually when men talk about Jane they always mention her beautiful face or boobs, but this guy he sounds sincere, the only negative thing is that he's English.

"You say that about every girl you meet Charles." The MI6 agent says disinterested.

Ugh, MI6 has an English accent and this guy doesn't seem as nice as Charles.

But Charlie just laughs. "Jane is such an angel. Did you know that she just moved here to Manhattan? She used to live in Atlanta with her sister, who's a single mother, helping her raise her three children. Jane said that she was going to try to arrange for me to meet her sister, too."

MI6 agent grunts at this "I would not like to meet a woman like that," He's accent is different from Charles. He's also English but his accent is more...posh "Think about it, Charles." MI6 agent continues, "she's a single mother with three children, I bet each one of them is from a different father. She must be waiting to catch herself a rich husband so she can stop working at the local supermarket, and make the poor guy maintain her and her bastards. I bet your beautiful angel just wants you to meet her sister so you can marry her," He stops as he takes a sip from his soda.

He's talking about me. I resist the urge to slap him.

"It's clear this Jane woman is trying to set you up with her sister." MI6 agent continues his tirade. "Do you really want a woman no one else wants? If anyone wanted her, she wouldn't still be single. She probably had those children just trying to catch a man and keep him by her side. Or maybe she's looking for a child support check." A small mocking laugh escapes his mouth, "Great plan that turned out to be, if that was her plan."

My blood boils from this statement, so this arrogant prideful man thinks that I'm a whore! Who works in a supermarket no less, which isn't bad but he thinks that I am trying to catch myself a rich guy.

I'm single because I want to be single, you arrogant jerk!

_And_, Mr. MI6 my children are all from the same guy and I'm a lawyer!

I want to scream this to him but before I can say anything Princess Ariel spots me starring at them.

"May I help you?" He asks.

"Well actually yes-" I say, I'm about to start screaming at the MI6 agent but what I'm about to say gets stuck in my throat as the other man turns around and looks at me.

And his eyes make me want to faint.

He has the iciest blue eyes.

And I only know 3 people who have those eyes. Two of them are in school probably having their lunch around now.

That only leaves _him. The _man who shall not be mentioned.

"You!" He says standing up knocking his chair as he does.

No. Freaking. Way.

"Really god!" I say looking at the sky, "what have I done to deserve this!" I grumble.

Because in front of me is none other than William, the father of my children.

Well, damn.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I just noticed I missed some reviews and I didn't answer them, but in the next chapter ill answer them **

**Btw do you think I should write a flashback of the week Lizzie spent with Darcy? that would explain a lot of things, for example why she hates him so much, would you guys like to read that?**

**also please review that would really encourage me to keep writing, because if it wasn't for the reviews I would totally stop because I'm always so busy I literally have no time, I actually write at 2 in the morning or I wake up really early to write that way I have time. plus the reviews also help me update faster**

**So please review! And favorite and follow **

**As always I give out virtual food! This time it's a true southern dinner includes fried chicken corn bread, mashed potato, and rice…yummm….now I'm hungry….**


	4. Once Upon A December

**A/N:** **Oh my god guys I love you! Thank you for leaving me so many pretty reviews! You have made me want to update faster. Honestly I was going to update yesterday but my friend he came over so I just spent the day being crazy with him. And then last night I felt so guilty I didn't even write . So I woke up super early today to write this chapter. So here I am updating….**

**Gracias también a todos los lectores en español que leen esta historia. De verdad que me animan sus comentarios a seguir escribiendo por cierto corríjanme si escribo algo mal en español. **

**Thank you to all I love you guys!**

* * *

><p><strong>Flashback<strong>

**10 Years ago**

He was a fine mess, a beautiful disaster, a dazzling catastrophe. He was like a car accident that I could not look away from. I knew that it would end badly but still I stayed.

He was hypnotist, I knew something was wrong the moment I said see you tomorrow but by then I was already hypnotized.

He was a fascinating dull person like a new classic. He always acted like he was alone in a crowd

He was an impossibly and utterly an oxymoron.

Everything he did was a contradiction to himself. The dull boring person he showed to the rest of the world was not the person he showed to me

And I liked that.

I liked the fact that I could see a side that no one else saw. It was like my own secret garden, something that no one else could enjoy but me.

That should of told me something was wrong. I should of noticed something was not right when I could see how easily he changed personas, how easily he lied.

But I tried to deceive myself by thinking he was just like that, that he actually cared for me.

How wrong I was.

* * *

><p><strong>DAY 3<strong>

"So you're telling me you hate coffee?" William asks with a sly smile in his face.

"Yes I find the taste disgusting, to bitter for my taste. I think that life is too short to be wasting your time and taste buds in things that don't brighten up your day. I don't want to eat or drink things that remind me that the world is bitter and dark." I say taking a sip out of my hot chocolate, "I prefer drinking things that remind me of sweetness and winter nights spent over the fireplace." I say holding up my hot chocolate to him so he could see it.

"You are one peculiar person Elizabeth." William says leaning back in his chair. I can feel him studying me with his intense icy blue eyes. I try not to fidget under his gaze, which is much more difficult then said.

I've spent the last two days with William. After our first encounter in Starbucks two days ago we've had this unspoken arrangement of coming at the same time every day and sitting in the same table. I have come to look forward to these 30 minutes of the day with him. The first time I met him I found him to be a very shy awkward person. People would think that he would be more outspoken and cocky because of his good looks. But the strange thing about William is that he's not conscious of his good looks or the way every woman in this café looks at him.

I look around and sure enough almost every woman in the packed café is looking at us some with envy and some with curiosity. Obviously curious to know how a woman like me could be sitting in front of a guy like him.

I'm even curious myself to know why he's sitting with me. And also I would love to know how the hell he always finds this table empty. This place is always packed but somehow he's always sitting in this particular table. Weird.

I take this time to study William as he drinks his tea. His black hair is cut short and he's wearing a simple white t-shirt with jeans. Very different from the attire he was wearing when I first met him. Maybe he was going to have a job interview and had to dress up, which would explain why he's not dressed up anymore.

But of course I'm not going to ask him that. We've also developed this unspoken arrangement to not talk about anything personal. Ever since I joked with him that giving out last names was dangerous because they could steal social security numbers he hasn't asked for my last name and I haven't asked his. And I like it like that; I like the fact that I can be someone else with him, someone totally different then what people expect of me when they hear Bennet. He doesn't know about beautiful Jane or my crazy mother or my gothic sister.

He only knows me. Elizabeth.

I can be myself with him. I can be Elizabeth, just Elizabeth. Not Elizabeth Bennet.

I can act like I want to without my mother yelling at me that my actions will have repercussions in the family's image.

My eyes flick back to him and he's still looking at me. I study his eyes, such an impossible color. Even when he squints his eye color still pops. Such a rare complexion -dark hair with super icy blue eyes- He must have some very good genes.

"So what do you think?" he says.

I snap back into attention, "think about what?" I ask embarrassed he caught me distracted.

"You weren't paying attention to what I was saying were you?" he asks his eyes full of humor.

"Not my fault your eyes are distracting!" I blurt out and immediately want to curse myself and my no brain filter.

William looks confused. Like if he has no idea why his eyes would make someone distracted.

"My eyes?" He asks confused

I roll my eyes at this. Surly he should know why his eyes would make me forget there's a world outside.

"Yeah there beautiful, not even Crayola could invent such a beautiful color like that, your eyes hypnotize. You could very well work in Vegas in a magic show….but you would have to wear spanx… I think…. I don't know if they still do wear spanx…do they still wear spanx?" I laugh of the thought of William wearing spanx "you have beautiful eyes, there your best attribute. Not that I'm saying you ugly. Because…" I point to his whole body "your just….wow, it's like if you walked out of some fashion magazine. Your parents must really know how to create babies….not that I'm saying I'm imagining your parents doing it….I mean surely they must have done it to make you….oh my god stop me now" I say hiding my face in embarrassment due to my rambling

William shifts uncomfortably in his chair looking everywhere except at me. Good job Elizabeth you made the only person you have met in England feel uncomfortable with you. Knowing him and his shy tendencies he must be ready to run from you.

"Well….that was…." I see his brain working trying to find a word for my most embarrassing ramble "informative?"

"Owls are the only birds in the world that can see the color blue." I blurt out

William finally looks up at me with this. He has no expression in his face. Wow good job Lizzie you're scarring him with your nervous tick of blurting out random facts.

Stupid stupid stupid

Then his face breaks into a smile and then laughter. I start laughing too, more because I'm relieved then nothing.

"Well you do have beautiful eyes so why hide the fact from you? I think that it's good to express what's in your mind not hide it. For example if I think someone is good looking I think it's better if I tell them, it doesn't mean I will sleep with them, it just means that I find them attractive. I appreciate good genes when I see them. Which by the way I think your attractive and I think the rest of the woman here find you attractive too," I say nodding my head at the rest of the people around the café "and I think even other men find you cute too." I say with a grin as I catch some men from the other table looking at him

He blushes at this. I can tell he's not used to being called attractive, or maybe he has been called attractive but hasn't believed it. Which leads me to think either he was either a very ugly child and isn't used to being called beautiful or he had an even more beautiful sibling who must of stolen all the attention and beauty away from him. Just like what happened with Jane and me. I'm not ugly but when I was with Jane I felt like the ugly duckling, of course all the oohs and awes went to Jane and her beauty and everyone forgot about me. It was when I wasn't with Jane that people noticed that I wasn't that ugly as they thought.

"You're really outspoken you know that?" William says

I grin at him "I know."

He shakes his head and smiles, "and you're also very weird."

I laugh at this, "wow you sure know how to woo a woman." I say, "but what was it you were asking me?"

He begins to shift again, something that I've noticed he does a lot when he's nervous. "Well….I…you see..." he stops, his eyebrows squeezing together as he's deep in concentration as he figures out a way to tell me what he wants to say. "I don't have nothing to do this week, I'm in vacation you could say, so I was wondering if I could spend it with you." He says looking hopeful at me, "I could show you around London."

I repress an urge to yell 'hell yeah' and look like a total desperate women. There is so much I can tolerate of being around my ten year old cousin whose a know it all and my baby cousins. "Your boss wouldn't mind you taking this week off?" I ask making sure he won't get in trouble.

I can tell he wants to laugh at something, I don't know what though, "yeah you can say that." He says smiling.

Awe so he is unemployed, maybe that's what he found so funny.

"Well then suite boy prepare to get the funnest week you've ever experienced!" I stop and look at him and smile a mischief smile, "the America way." I say standing up and offering him my hand.

"Should I be worried?" He says taking my hand.

"Well let's just say we Americans don't get embarrassed that easily as you English people." I say laughing at his worried look.

* * *

><p><strong>DAY 5<strong>

"Get down!" I yell tackling William to the floor as a paintball fly's and hits the tree behind us. I stand up quickly and quickly shoot the person who shot at us.

"What the hell!" William sputters underneath me his face red from the exertion of running around in the forest as people fire at us with paintball guns. "How did you learn to shoot?"

"My mom's from the south, every time I would visit my aunt and uncle over there my uncle would take me hunting, it was until I got a little older that I noticed I was killing defenseless animals." I say.

William nods in understanding.

"I don't know how you convinced me to do this, this is not fun at all." He says growling as he stands up.

"Awe stop whining." I say trying to tame my curly hair in place, "it makes you look ugly."

He scowls at this.

"This is way more fun than walking around looking at paintings." I say, "don't get me wrong it was nice the first hour, but after the women in front of us in the tour started asking questions about what was the difference between vintage paintings and classic paintings I seriously was considering to volunteer my ears and eyes to the science community." I add quickly when his smile starts falling.

The idea of going to an art museum was his idea. I mean I love museums but I tend to get a little restless after some time walking around trying to find the meaning of some painting that looks nothing more like splattered paint.

This is the 5th day I've known William.

"You're so dramatic Elizabeth." He says laughing.

I glare at him. "You're mocking me!"

He continues to laugh as he walks away giving me a good look at his sculpted back and perfect butt.

Damn that man is fine.

"The way to the flag is this way." I yell pointing to the other direction William is walking towards.

William turns around, "I knew that, I just wanted to see if you were paying attention."

"Of course you where" I say smiling and rolling my eyes.

It takes us about 15 minutes to get to where the flag is at. We decide that I'm going to go and take it and William is going to cover me from behind a tree. Once I get to where the flag is at a tall scrawny teenager pops up from behind a tree.

"Hi beautiful." He slurs looking at me in a perverted way.

Great a hormonal teenager. Just what I needed.

"You want the flag don't you?" He asks.

"No I came here to watch the grass grow, of course I came here for the flag you idiot!" I yell.

"Oh you're feisty, I like that"

I roll my eyes; I don't have time for this. "Look get out of my way or I'll shoot you in your balls." I say aiming my gun at him.

"I'll give you the flag." He says offering me the flag. I look at him skeptically.

"But first I want you to show me your boobs." He says heaving.

I laugh at this, "nope, I choose shooting at your balls." I say aiming my gun down at him, but he quickly grabs my gun with one hand and with the other he grabs my wrist.

Wow for someone so lanky he's strong. Must be because he plays video games so much. Can Pushing buttons strengthen a person? I'm about to kick him when I get hit with a paintball.

What the hell!? Who shot me?

Tall and lanky gets scared and runs off with the flag shooting blindly to whomever shot me. Just great.

"Elizabeth are you all right?" William comes running towards me worry written across his face.

"I'm all right," I say standing up from where I fell in the floor, "did you see who shot me?" I ask him.

He blushes at this and looks at the floor, "yeah that was me" he says sheepishly. "I was aiming for the guy who attacked you but I don't have a good aim."

I finally look at him and he has paint splattered in his chest, apparently one of tall and lanky blind shots found William. I don't know why this makes me laugh so much and before I know it me and William are in the grass floor laughing like crazy.

"I guess we lost." William says looking at me.

"I guess so," I say laughing.

* * *

><p><strong>DAY 6<strong>

"Sorry but were out of Mountain Dew is Sprite okay?"The waitress asks William.

He scrunches up his face, "no that's all right I'll get water instead." He replies to the waitress.

She snaps back into attention when William closes his menu, apparently the eye color is memorizing to the whole population of women.

"Your drinks will be here shortly." She says smiling at William completely ignoring me.

William of course and his social awkwardness does not realize that the waitress is ogling him.

"She wants you." I tell William after the waitress has gone.

He looks up at me startled by this. I still don't comprehend how a man who looks like him does not realize the effect he has on the opposite sex. I want to tease him about this, but I know William enough to know he hates to be teased. In another occasion I will tease him.

This is the sixth day that I know William. We decided after going window shopping that we should eat somewhere. He told me we should try this fancy restaurant, but I explained to him that I hate fancy restaurants. The people in there are just judging everyone, even the waitresses' judge! I told him that there was this family restaurant that I had gone the first day I was here in London that served really good food.

So that's what we're doing right now.

"Why don't you like Sprite? It taste the same as Mountain Dew." I ask after a minute of silence.

He gasps, "Sprite does not taste the same! I'm offended." His face is expressionless; I feel the need to apologize until I see a smile breaking into his face.

"Ha ha ha you're so funny." I reply as the waitress puts down our drinks in front of us.

"Do you know what you want to order?" She says smiling at William and addressing only him. I want to tell her that her attitude will only get her a lower tip. But of course I get interrupted by William and his order. She then looks at me waiting for my order.

"I'll get a bowl of vanilla ice-cream and some brownies, after that I'll get the supreme burger."

She looks at me curiously but doesn't ask any questions. At least she has manners.

I turn to see William who has an eyebrow raised.

"What?"

"You eat your desert first?" He asks curiously.

"Yeah and?"

"Don't you think that's weird?" He asks.

I shrug, "I don't care what people think about me, the way I see it all the rest of the people who eat their food first and then desert are wrong." I say drinking my soda.

"Oh please do explain. Enlighten me, now you've left me wondering. And it would be really rude of your part to leave me in expectation." He says leaning against his chair with a humor in his eyes.

That bastard.

He's laughing at me.

"The way I see it," I say putting my drink down. "I want to enjoy life at its fullest. Society thinks that you should eat dinner first and then desert but since I was a child I've always loved deserts and always looked forward to it when I finished my dinner. But by the time I had finished dinner I was too full and thus didn't enjoy my desert. That's why I think desert should be eaten first and then dinner. So that we can enjoy the taste of desert to its fullest."

"Well that's quite a theory Elizabeth, but many can fight with you and tell you your little arrangement can bring many consequences to the health getting full on just sweets would bring down your health." Williams says still with a smirk in his face.

"Well _William,_" I say putting a lot of emphasis in his name. "I never said that I would get full on just sweets I did order dinner, didn't I?"

He laughs, "well I can't argue with that argument."

"Well I do try to enjoy life." I say laughing.

"Always? Don't you think that there are moments where you have to be responsible and do your duty?" He asks.

"Of course there are moments where you have to be responsible, but the way I see it our whole life revolves in the past. We've lived all these years and everything we've lived through are memories the only thing we have is _now. The present. _These seconds that right now are our present, and it's up to us to enjoy them. To make these seconds these minutes a memory we can come back to when we have problems or difficulties. And that's what I think enjoying life is all about. Making memories worth staying up at night thinking about."

His eyes gaze deep into me. Analyzing me. I'm afraid to look away, I don't know what his trying to find. But I won't coward down to him.

"You're unlike any other woman I have met Elizabeth." He finally says.

"I know," I laugh "oooh I love this song!" I tell William as a song plays as background music in the restaurant. "Me and my dad have this tradition that whenever this song plays him and I have to dance to it, wherever we're at." I stand up, "come on." I say to William extending my hand to him.

"What are you doing?" He asks.

"Were going to dance!"

"Here?" He asks looking around at the packed restaurant.

"Of course!"

He looks up at me for a minute, I can see his hesitation. He's not used to doing these kinds of random things. He finally takes my hand and stands up.

"Come on." I whisper, "let's go make some memories!"

* * *

><p><strong>DAY 7<strong>

"Come on." I say to William who doesn't want to jump the gate.

"I don't think this is a good idea." He says, I see his silhouette in the night and he's shifting uncomfortably in his feet. He's nervous.

"This place is abandoned; no one will know were here. Come on it will be fun!" I exclaim trying to encourage him to jump the gate.

I found an abandoned hotel two days ago and I've wanted to explore it. So this is what we're doing tonight or better yet what I might do since William is too much of a coward to trespass in private property.

He exhales, "fine." He mutters and quickly climbs over the gate. I squeal in happiness. At least if I get caught and go to prison I won't be alone. I know, selfish of my part.

"Come on!" I say grabbing his arm and tugging him to the hotel.

A window is broken so that's where we enter from. The hotel is huge; it looks like if it was a beautiful in its time. It kind of reminds me of a palace. A beautiful palace.

"Isn't it beautiful?" I ask in awe.

"I find it creepy and dirty." William responds.

"I feel like if I just stepped into an 18th century novel." I say with a courtesy, then before I know what I'm doing I start singing and twirling.

"_Dancing bears, painted wings, things I almost remember and a song someone sings once upon a December._" I sing twirling and dancing across the lobby of the abandoned hotel, I feel like if I just stepped into a whole new world. I grab William and start dancing with him, or better yet I dance and he stands stiffly.

"_Someone holds me safe and warm horses prance through a silver storm figures dancing gracefully across my memory._" I start humming and twirling loosing myself in the song.

"What are you doing?" William says stopping me from my dancing.

"Have you ever seen the movie Anastasia?" I ask him.

He shakes his head.

"Then you don't understand what I'm doing, there's a scene in the movie where she enters an abandoned palace that reminds me of this hotel and she starts singing and dancing." I tell him, "I was obsessed with that movie; I think I watched it every day, I watched it a million times just for that scene…. I found it magical." I say in a whisper remembering the movie I start humming the song again as I twirl again.

"_Far away long ago glowing dim as an ember things my heart use to know, things it yearns to remember, and a song someone sings….once upon a December._" I finish dropping myself to the floor like I remember the girl in the movie did.

I stop when I see William staring at me attentively.

"You should watch it, it's beautiful." I say standing up cleaning my jeans from the dirt it collected.

"I think I will." He says expressionless.

We stand there awkwardly for I don't know how long until I remember why I brought him here.

"Come on," I say grabbing his hand again and taking him up the stairs until we find the roof.

"This is what I wanted to show you." I tell him.

"A roof?"

I roll my eyes, "no you smart ass." I say taking some blankets from my bag and laying them in the ground, "come on." I say motioning him to sit beside me in the blankets.

He hesitates before sitting beside me.

"So what did you want to show me?"

I push him down so he's lying in the blanket and I quickly do the same thing and lye beside him.

"That." I say pointing to the night sky.

"Elizabeth, if you wanted to star gaze I'm sorry to tell you but this is London. We can't see the stars due to light pollution."

I laugh at this, "that is why I came prepared." I say grabbing my bag and taking flashlights and papers from it, "we have the same problem in Manhattan. I have a little sister who is obsessed with star gazing but since we can't see the stars we do the next best thing." I say handing him a paper and flashlight.

He looks at me curiously before looking down at the paper. I remember the first time Mary showed me how to do this. I thought it was a little crazy but afterwards I liked the idea. But then I remember the unspoken rule about not talking about nothing personal. I look up at him to see if he realized my mishap.

"So you have a little sister?" He asks.

I nod my head, not correcting him and telling him that I actually have three younger sisters.

"I also have a younger sister. But she's not into star gazing. When she was little she used to make me play with her." He says looking up at the night sky. "She had this doll she loved a lot, made me name her."

My jaw drops, William played with his little sister? That has to be the cutest thing ever! "What did you name the doll?" I ask him trying to take back my composure.

"I called her Olivia but my sister hated that name so she used to call her Olive." He shrugs, "I guess you were right about making memories you can think about at night." He says smiling at me, he has an amazing smile, he should smile more often.

"This is a star map." He says looking down at the paper.

"Yep." I answer trying to remember what was the reason I brought him here, "the thing we do is that we look down at the paper and see the stars and then look at the sky and imagine them there, for example that's the big dipper." I say pointing at stars in the paper, "and they would be there." I say pointing at a spot in the night sky. "The big dipper is my favorite by the way."

"Why?" William asks.

I curse myself for telling William that I like the Big Dipper.

"Did you know why the big dipper is called that?" I say changing his question; I don't want to tell him my reason for liking that specific constellation.

"Why do you like the Big Dipper Elizabeth?" He asks me, not dropping the subject. He turns to his side to look at me his icy blue eyes still visible even in the darkness.

"Its called the Big Dipper because the major stars can be seen to follow the rough outline of a large ladle or dipper."

He takes my cheek and cups it with his hand, "why do you like the Big Dipper Elizabeth?" He asks again but this time in a soft voice.

"In the 19th century, runaway slaves would follow the Big Dipper to the north with hopes of freedom." I say ignoring his question.

He exhales and finally turns away from me laying back in the blanket.

I don't know if I should tell William my reason. I barley know him, yes I've spent almost all my waking hours of this week with him but can I tell him this?

"The Native Americans had the Big Dipper as a bear. A momma bear followed by her three cubs. And I don't know but I've always liked that story better. I just think how protective the mother bear is and the love for her three cubs she must have." I look at William and I don't know what he must think, I know he must know that this story hurts me because I must have some problem with my own mother.

"And that's why I like the Big Dipper because like the Native Americans said it's actually a momma bear protecting its three cubs." I say looking at the sky where I know the Big Dipper should be.

I look at William again and his eyes have become darker then what they were some minutes ago.

"Are you o-" But I'm interrupted of what I'm going to ask him when I feel Williams lips pressed against my own. I don't move to shocked about whats happening.

William is kissing me. William is kissing me.

William. Is. Kissing. Me.

His lips are soft and warm and shy like if he doesn't know if he should be doing this. I know if I asked him right now he would stop. But do I want him to stop? I don't know. Before I decide what to do William is retreating from me.

"Sorry I just had to do that, I've been asking myself how it would feel to kiss you." He says starring at his hands. He's shifting nervously again and blushing profoundly even in the darkness I can see his blush.

He looks adorable.

And before I know what I'm doing I reach for him and kiss him. It's supposed to be a short kiss reassuring him that everything is fine, that we can still be friends. Nothing more can happen. We're just friends. I just met this guy a week ago, that would just be too easy of my part if I let this continue. But what started off as soft and delicate has become passionate and rough with hunger.

_Raw_ hunger.

I've had boyfriends before and I've kissed them before but I've never experienced this feeling of not wanting to stop. Before I know it I'm lying in my back and William is on top of me. I don't know where my shirt went or his for the matter. All I know is that there's too much clothes between us and I want them off.

"I've never done this before." I whisper to him.

He just grunts.

"Did you know," I say between kisses,"that every three minutes someone in America reports seeing a UFO?"

"You're weird." He responds.

"And you're awkward." I laugh.

I wonder how old he is, I just turned eighteen 3 months ago. He looks like he's in his mid 20's.

But all I know is that I don't want him to stop and I know we won't stop.

* * *

><p><strong>DAY 8<strong>

My eyes flutter open when I feel the sunlight in my eyes. I have the blanket in top of my naked body. William must have put it there. I turn around to look at William but I don't find him there. I look around but he's not here.

He left.

Don't worry Lizzie he must have gone to get something to eat. He didn't leave you. I quickly get up and put my clothes on. I sit there waiting for him for what must have been hours but he never comes. Maybe he had an emergency I think as I climb over the gate of the abandoned hotel.

Yeah that's it, he had an emergency maybe he will be at the café like every day today waiting for you, I tell myself.

I walk quickly to the café to wait for him not caring I'm wearing yesterday's clothes. I don't care if I'm walking the walk of shame; all I want is to see William again.

I stay in the café till dark.

William never came.

"Miss, we're about to close." The barista says standing beside me. I look up at her; it's the same young woman who always works here when William and I are here. She looks down at me with pity.

She must know what happened, if yesterdays close didn't give her the hint then my jaw tight with anger will.

The walk back to Uncle Gardiner's house is humiliating. The ache between my legs is the only sign that William ever existed.

Aunt Gardiner must be sick with worry, I didn't even call to tell her that I wouldn't be home all day. How irresponsible am I?

Tears unconsciously start falling down my cheeks as I walk the crowded streets of London. William used me. He used me. He only wanted one thing, and he must have thought the 'Weird-Crazy-American-Girl' would be easy.

How wrong I was about him.

He lied to me all this time.

I'm so stupid.

Stupid, stupid girl.

I walk into my uncle and aunt's house, my aunts yelling at me for not calling, her worry is evident in her voice. She's crying. I don't know what she's saying. I'm in a haze. All I know is that I feel dirty, I need to take a shower. I need to get his kisses and touches off of my skin. I need him out of me.

I run into my bathroom and lock the door. I get into the shower not worrying to take my clothes off. I just sit there crying my eyes out, letting the water mix with my tears.

I won't cry for you William. These will be the last tears I will shed for you. You're not worth it. You played with my feelings but I won't let you play with my feelings anymore.

Damn you William.

Damn you.

* * *

><p>But what Elizabeth never noticed was a note beside her when she woke up in neat handwriting.<p>

Dear Elizabeth,

I'm sorry I couldn't wake up beside you, I just got a call from my job and their was an emergency. You looked to cute to wake up. I might be stuck at the office the whole day but I would love for you to come visit me at the office. My number is in the back of the paper. Please call me, I can't wait to see you.

From,

The awkward human being who is falling in love with you,

William Darcy

P.s I know we aren't supposed to tell each other's our last names or anything personal but I think we can drop that after last night.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: ok guys don't kill me. I know this was supposed to be the chapter when Elizabeth finally sees Darcy again, but so many people wanted a flashback that I decided to make one. I was actually going to make it short like someone suggested and just continue on with the story. But like I said I just get carried away writing.**

**The Anastasia song is called once upon a December, you guys should look it up, it's beautiful! And the story of the big dipper is true, even about the momma bear and her three cubs.**

**Next chapter will defiantly be Elizabeth meeting Darcy again. How do you think she will react to him.? Knowing how Elizabeth is and her tough personality?**

**Please review that is what makes me keep writing, because if people don't review I just think everyone hated it.**

**If anyone wants to be my beta please PM me…ppllllllleeeeeeaasssseeee help me out and all my grammatical errors, lol**

**If you review and favorite or follow I will give out virtual food….this time its virtual churros…I love churros **


	5. 5 Types Of Ex And I'm The Worst

**A/N: So sorry that I haven't updated in two weeks, life has been busy. But thankfully we had a snow storm that locked me inside my house. But anyways guess what guys?! I have a beta! Now you wont get headaches because of my horrible grammar you all have to thank Julianabr who is like the queen of grammar. I seriously appreciate your help!**

**Now to answer TEAM CHURROS questions!**

**The questions that were left the most were about when I would update: I'll try to update every week and if I see interest in the story twice a week. It also depends how busy me and my beta are. She's a full time mom so you know she's busy **

**The other question that was left was why Elizabeth didn't see the note; well you guys will learn that as the story progresses. There's a very good excuse of why she never saw it. **

**Btw I have nothing against red heads or blondes my grandma is a natural red head and my mom has dark red hair even though they prefer the term auburn . And my aunts are blondes and I have dark brown hair even though everyone tells me I have a dark auburn hair but I live in denial of my hair color**

**Darn Irish heritage **

**Anyways thanks for being patient with me and liking and reviewing my story**

**Gracias a mis lectores en español que leen mi historia, si entiendo todo en español solamente que a veces ciento que no lo escribo bien.**

**I love you guys!**

** Los amo a todos! **

* * *

><p>When I was in tenth grade, the teacher assigned the class a project that we each had to do. We could do it about anything. I decided to do the project on constellations since I loved to gaze up at the sky. Well, I don't know how but Judith Grinchen found out that I was going to do my project on constellations. Of course, being the witch that Judith Grinchen is, she decided to make fun of me and my 'immature hobbies'. I ignored her of course, since I had enough school suspensions to last me my whole lifetime and I didn't need my mother yelling at me for giving her heart palpitations. After school, Judith had the great idea to corner Mary and me to make fun of my project. She said only idiots would star gaze in Manhattan since there are no visible stars. It was then that Mary calmly explained to her how we stargazed with the flashlight and paper.<p>

Well I completely forgot about that encounter with Judith until we had to present our projects in front of the whole class. The teacher had this great idea to start the presentation of projects in alphabetical order but from Z-A. Since my last name is Bennet I would be one of the last persons to present her project.

When it was time for Judith Grinchen to present her project she turned off the lights of the classroom and proceeded to hang up a moon in the middle of the classroom. It was when she started to pass out a sheet of paper and flashlights that I figured out that she was stealing Mary's and my special way of stargazing. She then told everyone she was doing her project on constellations and pointed to where each constellation would be if this were a night sky. During the whole time she was explaining this she was staring and smiling sweetly at me.

When it was my turn to present my project everyone thought it was a rip-off of Judith's project. As hard as I tried to explain to the teacher that Judith had cheated, she didn't believe me.

I had never been so angry in my whole entire life. I was seriously considering cornering Judith and disfiguring her face. But Jane told me that was my dramatic side talking and I was exaggerating.

If a person asked me to remember a time when I was the most mad and angry in my life, I would direct them to this particular memory.

But now, standing in front of the asshole that impregnated me ten years ago and left me, I think this moment surpasses it. I never thought I would be as angry as the Judith Grinchen incident, but now I can see that I wasn't even close to being as furious as I am right now.

What would you do if, after ten years, you saw the asshole who impregnated you and disappeared?

You can discover what a woman is really made of by seeing how she reacts when she meets an ex. You can usually categorize them into four types:

There's the _'avoider'_ who avoids their ex as much as possible; hides behind plants, friends, waiters, even plants that are their friends. Weird, I know, but I don't judge people. Then there are the _'nice'_ ones who will act as if they're really good friends and be all sweet and nice. Hell, maybe even bake him a cake. There are the _'beggars'_ who will cry and beg for reconciliation. And finally, there are the _'I'm-going-to-make-you-jealous'_ type ex-girlfriend, who parades their new boyfriend (or even a fake boyfriend) around the ex, trying to make him jealous.

Unfortunately for William, I am none of the above. I'm the _'I'm-going-to-disfigure-your-face-next-time-I-see-you'_ type ex.

For a moment, I wonder if I'm even considered an ex, since we never really 'dated'. I mean, I did spend a whole week with him going out with him to different places. Is that considered dating?

But at least I know I wasn't a one-night stand. Right?

You know, I had spent a week with him, so we weren't strangers (even though I had no idea what his last name was or anything about his family, and I knew absolutely nothing personal about him…).

But even so, I didn't consider him a stranger, so of course it couldn't have been a one-night stand. I mean, I just slept with him once...

Oh my god! I was a one-night stand!

The amount of disgust I have with myself right now has no limit.

Thoughts of scratching his perfect face until it wasn't recognizable were running through my mind. But I couldn't really do that since this was a fancy restaurant and I don't think my children would react well to having their mothers face in the afternoon news. So I did the second best thing.

I slapped him.

Assault charges and restraining orders be damned.

To say I felt good would be an understatement.

So many pent up feelings were running through me. Ten years of bottled anger were ready to explode. I had spent nights imagining what I'd do or tell him when I finally saw him again. Because of him, my mother kicked me out of my house. Because of him, I didn't see my parents for ten years. Because of him, I stayed awake thinking about how I was going to feed my children when they were born, when I could barely feed myself. Because of him, I have stretch marks. Because of him, I cried myself to sleep every night when I was pregnant. Because of him, I had to decide between buying diapers or buying school supplies. He was the catalyst for all my problems.

As I stare at his icy blue eyes I can see anger and shock as he holds his slapped cheek with his hand. I hate him so much right now.

He looks different. Still as gorgeous as ever unfortunately, but when I saw him the last time he looked young, almost like a boy. But now he's a man…a complete man. He has aged gracefully; he's like wine, he's gotten better as he's gotten older. I can spot small wrinkles in his face. But it's the expression on his face that worries me. He looks like he carries the whole world on top of his shoulders. He has bags under his eyes like if he has never gotten a single night of good sleep. He looks so much like James right now when he's mad that I have the urge just to hug him and tell him everything will be all right.

But this isn't my son. It's his father.

Charlie stands up quickly from his chair and looks confused at the scene playing right in front of him. His eyes go quickly from me to William.

"What's happening here?" Charlie asks, confused.

I wait for William to explain but he only glares at me. "This woman is the psychotic elf of yesterday," William finally says.

"I am not psychotic!" I yell (even though yelling that out makes me look even more crazy).

"Well who slaps a stranger in the middle of the restaurant you nymph!" he yells back.

"I am not short, I am 5'9! So stop calling me an elf and a nymph, you jerk!" I tell him, trying to get back my composure after realizing everyone in the restaurant is watching our little show.

Hearing this, William takes a step forward and glares down at me. I had forgotten how tall he was. He must be like 6'2" or 6'3", making me look much tinier in comparison.

Even so, I don't back down. I know he's trying to intimidate me but I won't let that happen. He glares at me and I glare right back at him.

"How do you know each other?" Charlie asks, coming to stand in between us in an attempt to separate us.

"She's the witch that dropped her hot chocolate all over me. Now tell me, imp, why are you following me?"

Hot Chocolate? What is he talking about?

Then it clicks. William is the Neanderthal who used the wrong door yesterday, thus making me spill my hot chocolate.

I hadn't recognized him since he had been wearing sunglasses. Plus he's changed a lot.

What a small freaking world.

He doesn't recognize me. Or maybe he just totally forgot about me. Yeah, that sounds more logical. But even if I tried to forget about William, the face of James, David and Olive would remind me every day. But he has no idea who I am. And I don't know why it hurts me so much that he forgot about me. Wasn't that what I wanted him to do?

My brain starts racing, _Have I changed so much that he doesn't recognize me? I mean, I don't look old. I'm only 29, and many people believe that I'm much younger than that. It doesn't help either that I've gotten much thinner since he last saw me. Having three kids to take care of and also working full time doesn't help your appetite._

It's when I start combing my fingers through my hair that I remember that I dyed my hair black. So of course, William won't recognize me, I look completely different from the curly brunette 18 year old with a quirky lively personality he met eleven years ago.

It also doesn't help that I'm wearing sunglasses.

I look at William. He looks angry. His jaw is tight and his eyebrows are furrowed down, just like James does when he's mad. I study him trying to find more similarities between him and the triplets.

James and Olive look exactly like William. There's no denying it. One look at William and anyone would know he's their father. There are the obvious traits: the black hair and the piercing icy blue eyes. But there are also the subtler things; like the shape of their eyes, the same jaw, the same cheekbones. Even their eyebrows look like William's.

Because his outward appearance is so different from William's, it is not so obvious with David. But right now, William is standing just like David stands; feet apart and facing outwards. I've told him many times to stand and walk correctly because he ruins a lot of shoes by walking that way. But he never listens. I realize David wasn't trying to make me mad. He just couldn't help himself.

"I'll ask you again, why are you following me?" William says, snapping me out of my inner monologue.

"Following you?" I laugh.

William's frown gets even more pronounced at this.

Yeah, William I'm making fun of you. I know how much you love that. "You sir, have given me a good laugh!" I say wiping a fake tear from my eye.

"Do not mock me," William grits through his teeth.

This man might look like my children but he has none of their personalities. This man is proud and arrogant.

"Please don't give yourself too much credit. The last thing I want to do is see your face again," I say calmly, taking a seat at the table.

William scowls. I don't think he knows how real those words are. Maybe he thinks I'm exaggerating. But the truth is that I really really really wish I didn't have to ever see his face ever again. I tried so hard to just bury my past and live with the consequences.

"Who are you? Is this some kind of joke? Are you a journalist? Paparazzi? Did my aunt send you? She's trying to make me look mentally unstable so she can take over the company, isn't she?" he snaps at me.

He runs his hands through his hair as I've seen him and David do so many times. He's like an old song from your childhood that you memorized years and years ago and then you finally hear it and you sing along to it, and you wonder how in the hell you never forgot it. That's what William is to me right now. An old song.

But for him, I guess I'm nothing worth remembering. To him I was probably one out of hundreds of other girls he slept with. Of course he wouldn't remember me. His life didn't change that much after that night, as mine did.

But still, does he not remember me or does he not recognize me? There's only one way to find out.

I take my sunglass off. Letting him see my hazel eyes, I stand up and look into his icy blue eyes but still I see only anger. I grab his shoulder and push him down into his seat. "Geesh dude, paranoid much?" I say, repeating the same actions and words from the first day I saw him.

I think I see something pass in his eyes pass, like a small moment of recognition. But it's gone so fast that I think I must have imagined it.

"Who are you? And what are you doing here?" William asks, after trying to steady his anger.

He truly doesn't remember me. I don't know why it hurts so much. It shouldn't hurt like this but it does.

I want to yell at him and say something sarcastic but I fight back my words. Charlie is here and the way he's looking at me, I know he must think I'm crazy. I don't want him to think Jane's family is completely nuts. I've always considered myself to be one of the sanest members of my family, and if Charlie thinks I'm crazy then there's no hope for the rest of them. He would literally think we all should be locked away in an asylum. I decide I'm going to try to win Charlie over for Jane. She has always been there for me, putting her life in hold just to help me out and recover from my mistakes. I'm going to charm Charles and make him see how great Jane is. And for that I have to ignore William.

"Hi!" I say directing my attention to Charlie and ignoring William. "I'm Jane's sister," I say extending my hand to him for a handshake. He hesitates before shaking it. _Great Lizzy, you've managed to scare Jane's future boyfriend._

But then my words finally sink in, and his face gets transformed into a big smile, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Jane's sister. You're as beautiful as Jane!"

"That's such a lie but I'll take it," I say, smiling at him.

Charlie has this kind of energy oozing out of him; such innocence and charm. I immediately like him. He and Jane are perfect for each other.

Even if he is British.

"Please sit down. We already ordered but they still haven't brought the food out. Would you like something to drink?" he says, calling the waitress over and motioning me to sit down.

"Do you know what you want to order?" the waitress asks me.

"I'll have a coke," I tell the waitress.

"Anything else?" she asks.

"You wouldn't happen to have a Big Mac would you?" I joke.

She scrunches up her eyebrows.

"I'll take that as a no," I whisper, opening the menu and burying my nose in it. I don't know what the majority of this stuff is. And the prices are astronomical. I could fully well pay the rent with the cost of a meal here.

Student loans and triplets have sucked up my salary.

"What do you recommend?" I ask Charlie.

He shrugs. "I don't know. I usually come to Manhattan just for business so I never get to tour restaurants, but Darcy here," he says slapping William's back, making him cringe, "has been living here for quite a while now"

"I usually don't like recommending food. I detest hearing people whine to me later about how they don't like it," he says with a serious voice

"Do you think so lowly of your taste palate that you think everyone will hate the food you recommend?" I ask.

"No, I think highly of my taste palate. It's the taste palate of others that I think so lowly of," he responds sharply. I can sense that he doesn't want to continue with the conversation.

_Whatever_, I think; _I didn't even want to talk to you._

I give up trying to find something that I might like and hand the waitress the menu saying, "Give me the greasiest plate you have… Actually, make that two plates and put one in a to-go box," I say, remembering I have to bring back a plate for David, who will eat up just about anything.

She raises her eyebrows in surprise. I bet none of the skinny girls who come here ever order like I do.

"Oh, and can you bring me the sweetest desert you have first, and then bring out the entrée?"

She nods her head and quickly goes away

I look up at Charlie, who's sitting in front of me, and William, who is sitting beside him. Charlie is smiling at me and he looks like he wants to laugh. And William, like always, is unreadable; he's absolutely expressionless. I swear, a potted plant has more personality than he does.

"You have desert first?" Charlie finally says.

I nod my head not trying to go deeper in the conversation, remembering the same conversation with William from ten years ago.

"That's quite strange," Charlie says, looking at me and then William. "How do you two know each other again?"

"He bumped into me making me spill my precious hot chocolate. All because he used the wrong door." I respond while giving William a glare.

"I did no such thing!" William snaps.

"Oh, yes you did. Don't lie."

"I'm not lying."

"Yes you are."

"How about we agree to disagree?" William grits through his teeth, clearly losing his patience

I'm getting more teed off by the minute. I try to control it and hold on to my patience, clearly having a better outcome then William. My experience raising his kids comes in handy for this.

_I can't believe I got impregnated by this jerk._

I'm seriously considering the idea that I was drugged that night.

"And by the way, why the hell did you call me 'a decorative painted slut'?" William asks, causing Charlie to spit out his drink and start laughing.

So he heard what I was saying before he bumped into me.

"I was telling that to the sun, not you. And by you hearing what I said only proves that you saw me entering, just that you were to much of a brute to move."

His nostrils flare. "Why would you call the sun 'a decorative painted slut'? And I did not see you."

I want to snap but I remember that I have to be nice today since I want to give a good impression to Charlie. I watch him as he looks back and forth between me and William, as if he were viewing a tennis match.

"So, Charlie, my sister sent me in her place because she had a surgery scheduled at the last minute," I say. "but she wanted to come!" I quickly add when I see his smile fall. "She told me to give you her number."

I take out the post it note that Jane gave to me for him, with her information and a short explanation.

"Thank you," Charlie says, looking at the note and smiling again. "You're the 24 year old sister right? The microbiologist?"

I look at him curiously trying to understand what he's saying.

"Jane told me about her sisters," he added when he saw my confusion. "You have black hair so I'm guessing you're the 24 year old microbiologist sister."

He thinks I'm Mary. This would be so awkward if William did remember me, since right now he would be thinking he'd slept with a 14 year old girl. I want to laugh at that but I manage to suppress it.

I look at William fidgeting in his seat. It seems as if he's listening more attentively to the conversation now, but the tense look on his face makes me think he's just trying to find fault with me.

"No," I respond. "You have me confused. That's my younger sister Mary. She has short black hair, and I have the long black hair."

I look at William and he seems to relax with my answer. I wonder why.

"Oh. Then, which one are you?" Charlie asks.

"I'm the single mom of three who works in a supermarket and is trying to catch a rich husband so he can maintain my bastard children, who by the way are of different men," I say, starring at William.

Charlie looks embarrassed that I heard their conversation, but William looks unaffected by this.

"If you're looking for an apology, you won't find one here," he finally says, taking a sip from his drink.

"Oh, I know I won't get an apology from someone like you," I say calmly.

Charlie jumps in, trying to lessen the tension with, "So what are you doing here in Manhattan? Are you visiting?"

I shake my head. "I'm moving back to the city. I've been here around a week, and it's actually the first time I've gone somewhere that hasn't been the store, school, my parents' house, work or my apartment. I think if it wasn't for Jane making me come here, I would have never taken the time to explore a little more Manhattan."

"So nice of Jane," William says with sarcasm.

I turn to him, "What are you really trying to say? Just spit it out!" I glare at him.

"I just think it's a little convenient that Jane had an unexpected surgery, and that you just mysteriously decide to move here a week after Jane meets Charles."

My mouth hangs open at his deluded implication. He thinks Jane planned all of this so I could meet Charles? And do what? Date him?

I look at Charles and he looks completely embarrassed by his friend's antics.

"Aw darn, you caught me. I took my three children out of school, moved them all across the country, changing states, just so I could meet a guy my sister likes and steal him away from her. Who, by the way, I had never met and before I had gotten here, I thought could be a potential rapist-murderer."

William scowls at me, clearly not liking the fact that I have made him look like a complete idiot. Charles looks like he wants to laugh.

"No offense," I tell Charles, thinking how I kind of called him a rapist-murderer.

"None taken," he says, trying to hide his laughs with really poor coughs. "By the way, how old are your kids?" Charles asks after controlling his laughter.

I think about how I'm going to answer him since William is here. He hasn't shown any signs of recognition but I can't be so sure. If I tell Charles their real ages, William might be able to decipher that they're his children. And then who knows how he would react.

A shiver of fear runs through me, _He could even try to take them away from me._

"The oldest is 7," I lie, "the middle one is 5 and the baby is 3."

"Oh they're little," Charles says, as the waitress comes and puts our food in front of us. Mine being a small plate of what I think is a small pie sprinkled with seeds that look too healthy to be in a dessert.

Bird food I think. Utterly and purely bird food.

"Yeah, they're small but they fill up my whole life," I say smiling at Charles.

"What are their names?" Charles asks.

"My oldest is called James, the middle one is David and my baby is named Ol-" I stop suddenly in mid name. If William ever remembers me, he will find it very weird that I named Olive after his sister's doll. "Olpa!" I spew out, cringing at the only name I could come up with quickly.

"Olpa?" Charles asks, his eyebrows raised; clearly thinking I gave my child a hideous name.

"Yeah, as in the Greek goddess of… war. Her name means… small warrior," I say, completely making up this information on the spot. "It's totally chic," I tell him. I just want to slap myself.

"Olpa," Charles whispers underneath his breath. "Cute," he finally tells me, giving me a wide smile. Only Charles would think of saying that name was cute.

I look at William and he's twisting a napkin; something Olive does when she's uncomfortable. William's uncomfortable.

Maybe he's uncomfortable talking about my children. Even though they are his children. But, then again, he doesn't know that.

"What happened to the children's' father?" William asks.

His voice startles me. I completely thought he wasn't paying attention, or that at least he was disinterested. He probably wants to bother me about how I'm raising my children without a father figure.

"… or fathers?" he adds.

I want to slap him again for that.

"He was an inconsiderate jerk who left me and I truly want to have nothing to do with him," I say glaring at him.

"So… tell me more about your kids. What are they like?" Charles says, interrupting my stare-down with William.

I wouldn't usually talk about my children with strangers because I think it would just bore them. But Charles looks genuinely curious to know about them.

"Well for one, if they were here I would probably be kicked out of this restaurant, especially if I was here with David. I'm not saying they're bad kids, because they're not. It's just that they can be… " I stop trying to find a word to describe Olive and James. "… intense," I finally say. "Especially my oldest and youngest; David is different from them. He just can't sit still; he has so much energy," I explain, loosing myself in thinking about my children.

I know I must be smiling like I usually do when I think about them.

"He's like a little tornado, but I love him."

"Wow! You get really excited and happy when you talk about them," Charles says smiling at me.

"They sound like you haven't taught them how to behave," William grumbles.

I glare at him. _Now I'm a horrible mother?!_

"I have taught them plenty, but they are little right now and they behave like any normal child their age," I say bitterly.

"Children should learn how to behave from the time they are little, or else when they grow up, they will be a bunch of rebels. Just the kind of people who grow up to be drug addicts, thieves or, at best, gang members."

"Are you insinuating my children will grow up to be that?!" I ask in shock.

"Well, they're clearly heading that way," he responds simply.

I stare at him. He's talking bad about my kids. Little does he know, he's insulting his kids also! Yet another reason why I should never tell him about them. He will completely ignore them and probably look down at them. I bet he would never show them off; completely embarrassed by their having a mother like me. And I can just imagine the smile falling off of Olive's face once she notices her father doesn't want her or even like her. No. I will never do that to my kids.

"I would recommend a hobby for your middle child. Something he can spend all his extra energy on. A sport possibly?" William says, interrupting me from my thoughts. He's sitting there expressionless. But seeing into his eyes, I can tell he's annoyed, mad even.

_What reason does __he__ have to be mad?_

"He already plays sports. He used to be on his school soccer team back in Atlanta," I say, annoyed. I don't need William telling me how to raise my kids.

"Well then, since sports aren't working you should try music, piano maybe, since it requires more discipline." He runs his fingers through his hair, a sign he's clearly getting irritated.

I think about this, it sounds like a good idea but of course I won't admit that to him.

Charlie's phone starts ringing; he picks it up and looks at it. "Sorry guys, its work." He looks at me, "Do you mind if I take this?"

"Not at all," I say, motioning him to answer.

Charles stands up and hurries to the men's' bathroom. Now it's only William and me, alone. I wait for him to mention something about what happened ten years ago, but he never does. He probably has forgotten all about me. Why wouldn't he?

I think about how olive would love to be here right now. She would probably be asking 100 questions a minute. How would William act with her? He probably has no idea how to behave around kids. He would be so awkward around them. James and David would definitely hate him the minute they found out who he was. Olive would be the only one glad to know who he is. She would be a total daddy's girl.

I look at William as he eats, trying to be subtle and trying to not get caught. He's aged well. He looks around his 30's. 34 or 35 maybe? He is still absolutely gorgeous. He would be even more handsome if he didn't have that ever present frown in his face. He's dressed impeccably well. He doesn't have a suit on, just a dress shirt with a vest and a tie. He must work in some office, probably works for Charlie or something. I start thinking about all the questions Olive might ask me about him; this might be the only time I can find answers to those questions.

"What kind of music do you like?" I blurt out.

"Excuse me?" he says, looking up from his food.

"You look like an indie rock kind of guy," I say, remembering what Olive told me yesterday.

"I don't have time to listen to music," he says plainly, going back to his food.

We remain quiet for some time; our forks the only sound coming from the table. "Did you ever get your hot dogs yesterday?" I ask him.

"They weren't for me," he answers, irritated, "and no I didn't."

I want to yell at him 'screw you' and never talk to him again. I don't need to be tolerating Williams's attitude. I have enough with the attitude shared with his offspring to last me the rest of my life. But I'm doing this for Olive and her immense curiosity about her father.

"So you're saying you don't like hot dogs?"

"There all right I guess," he says, stabbing his steak with his fork.

I slump back in my chair defeated. It's easier to talk to a lamp then it is to talk to William. _I'm sorry Olive I tried, I really did._

"Is your last name Darcy?" I ask him, thinking about how Charles keeps calling him that.

"What makes you think it's my surname? It could very well be my first?" he says looking up at me.

Darn, I forgot I'm not supposed to know his first name.

I see something flash in his eyes, but it quickly goes away in a second. It almost looked like he was hopeful for something.

"Well I can't imagine a mother ever naming her child Darcy. Too much of a girl's name," I finally say.

He looks down at his food again. "Yes, Darcy is my surname."

We are silent for the longest time. It even seems as if Charlie is staying in the bathroom in purpose.

"I'm sorry, we're going to have to go," Charles says, coming back from the bathroom.

Finally I think.

"There's a work emergency, but thank you for giving me Jane's number. I'll call her to reschedule," he says, as William stands up exhaling. Probably out of relief he won't have to be in my presence anymore.

"That's fine. I have to be getting back to work," I say looking down at my phone.

"By the way I never got your name," Charles says.

I look at William to see if his paying attention, but he's too distracted by something in his phone.

"Elizabeth. but you can call me Lizzy," I tell Charles.

"Well it's a pleasure to meet you, Lizzy," Charles says smiling.

"Your bill sir," the waitress says, putting the bill in the table.

William takes out his wallet but I beat him to it and give the waitress my debit card. I don't want a single thing coming from William. Many women would jump at the opportunity to let someone pay for their food, but not me. I want to let William know that I don't need him.

Charles laughs, something I'm beginning to figure out he does quite a lot. "Wow, Darcy I think that's the first time a women has your bill," Charles says, slapping William on the back.

"Yes, I think you're right," William responds, never taking his eyes off of me.

Charles comes and hugs me and says good bye before he leaves, but William didn't even have the decency to say good bye. He just turns and leaves. He has no manners whatsoever and probably hates me because of the incident from yesterday.

_Well, I'm sorry to tell you William. But I hate you more._

* * *

><p>"I mean he looks like a nice guy, but I'm telling you, Jane, be careful with him. You still don't know him well. You still don't know if he's a rapist murderer…OH MY GOD what if he has a basement full of beautiful blond women angels he collects! Jane, you have to leave him NOW!" I tell Jane.<p>

I'm just coming out of work and I'm exhausted. I worked from 6 in the morning to 6 in the evening. 12 freaking hours. I was actually almost falling asleep driving, when Jane called me to see how my meeting with Charles went.

"Lizzy you're so dramatic," she says, amused,

"I'm not being dramatic. Seriously, I would be careful around him especially since his name is Charles Bingley. Such a creepy name," I shiver, trying to make my point.

"Have I told you today that you're very prejudiced?"

"No, my dear sister, you haven't."

"Well, I'm telling you now. By the way, are you going to the Lucas's fundraiser tomorrow?"

"I don't know," I tell her. "Charlotte mentioned it but I don't want to take the kids out. Plus David is grounded from the incident yesterday," I tell my sister sincerely.

"You have to come!" Jane wails. "I'm going to be alone if you don't come! Please come! You can leave the kids with Mary. I know she won't mind babysitting them," she begs.

I let out a long breath. I really don't want to go. I don't mind leaving the kids with Mary. I know she will take good care of them, but I do mind being around rich people who think they're better than everyone else. But I also know I have to start repaying Jane for all her help she has given me these 10 years. I know she says she didn't mind helping me out, but I still feel in debt with her. So if my sister wants me to go to a damn fundraiser, I will go to a damn fundraiser!

"Ok, fine. I'll go," I say bitterly.

"Yay!"

"Jane, do you think I can call you later? I'm about to enter my apartment and see how much destruction was caused by tornado David," I tell her as I open the door to my apartment.

She laughs, "I really don't know where your kid got that personality."

"I don't know either," I say sincerely, since I know for certain William does not act like David does and neither do I.

"Nucleic ac- acids… a-a-are the molecules that make up D-D-DNA," I hear Olive stutter.

I quickly say my good-byes to Jane and put my phone in my purse.

"An extremely important sub-substance that all cellular organisms use to store their ge-ge-genetic information."

I walk in the dining room where Olive is standing, giving a small speech, and David and James are sitting in chairs listening to her. Mary is sitting down also, but is typing away on her computer; probably work related.

"The most common nuc-nucleic acids are deoxyribonucleic acid and ribonucleic a-a-acid," Olive keeps stuttering.

I lean against the wall just staring at Olive talk about science and her brothers who look bored listening to her. Well David looks bored, James at least has the decency to act like he's listening. I take my time to analyze them. I just saw their father again and now I spot things that are similar to William that I've never realized they have. Like the small moles that are down David's neck that can be confused for freckles. Or the way Olive is rocking back and forth on her toes, a sign that she's nervous.

"Boo, you suck!" David yells, throwing her a piece of fruit he was eating.

"Stop it!" Olive yells at him.

"You stop it!"

"I'm telling mom!"

"I'm telling mom!" David repeats.

"Stop mimicking me!"

"Stop mimicking me!"

"I'm stupid," Olive says, smiling.

"Yeah, you are!" David laughs.

"Daviiidddd!" Olive whines.

I step up. "What's happening here?"

All three of them turn around. Even Mary turns when she hears me. She's wearing her normal attire of all blackness and darkness, with heavy black makeup on her eyes. She's would be really beautiful in only she didn't dress in such a creepy way.

"I'm practicing for the project I'm going to present tomorrow in front of class," Olive says, "but I just can't do it, I keep stuttering." she says, slumping in her chair defeated.

"We're here to help her," David grins.

"I don't think throwing food at her will help," I tell him.

"Hmm… you're right," David says thoughtfully. "Maybe I should try throwing something else," he says with a big smile in his face, and heads towards the kitchen.

"Don't you dare David!" I yell at him.

"Well, I'm leaving now that you're here," Mary says, standing up from her chair. "I have work to finish."

"Thanks so much, Mary! I owe you!" I yell at her as she walks out the door. She just waves her hand in goodbye as she shuts the door. I'm going to have to call her to ask about baby-sitting for tomorrow.

"It's just that I get nervous when I have to speak to people or in front of people. I don't know how you do it, mom," Olive says, groaning as she throws her head on the table.

"Just memorize it, honey, and practice," I tell her, massaging her head. "I'll help you out after I take a nap. I'm so tired, I just need to sleep for half an hour before I come to make you guys dinner," I tell her, kissing the top of her head.

"By the way, I need you to sign something for me," James says, taking a sheet of paper from his backpack.

"Oh, me too," Olive says, taking a sheet of paper from the middle of her book. "David has a permission form also, but he doesn't want to do the project on the same thing as me and James are doing it on. He says he would prefer to go with you to your work. That way he knows you will give him a perfect score… He's too lazy, if you ask me," Olive says, handing me her permission slip.

I grab both of the sheets. They are asking me if I give my consent to both of them to spend a day in a business or any work related place. That way they can do a research project about what they learned and if they think that field of work would be compatible with them.

"A teacher is going to be with us," Olive quickly says, when she sees my hesitation. "Me, James and two other kids have already decided on what business we want to do our project on, and guess what?!" she says excitedly.

"What?" I ask.

"The business we asked to research has approved for us to go there!" she squeals. "Please, mom! Pleeeeeease say yes! This is a huge company that I would love to work for one day, and they never never never accept children to tour the place, but they accepted us!"

I look at James to see what he might say, but he is quiet. "I'll take care of her," he finally says.

"What company is it?" I ask.

"It's the Pemberley Company!" Olive squeals.

"Never heard of it," I tell them honestly.

Olive gasps. "Mom, it's the biggest computer and phone manufacturer! You have one of their computers!" she says, pointing to my laptop on the table. "I've been dreaming about designing computers for this company since I could walk!"

This I do remember, olive has never been a normal girl. While some girls played with dolls she always preferred to play with her brother's hardware toys. Since she was five she's been destroying old computers and then rebuilding them again.

"Both of you really want to go?" I ask them. They both nod their heads.

"Fine," I say, signing both of the consent forms.

James grabs his form and puts it in his backpack. "I'm going to my room to finish my homework," he tells me. I nod my head as he leaves.

I look down at the table and spot a mug. Weird. _Did they drink coffee?_ I pick it up and take a sip. _Nope, not coffee but tea._

"Olive, did you drink tea?" I ask her.

She blushes, embarrassed by being caught, "Yeah, I've never had real tea, just sweet tea, and I wanted to taste the normal hot tea," she says, clearly lying.

I raise my eyebrows, showing her I didn't buy into her lie. "Tell me the truth, Olive."

"Okay, fine. It's just-just…" she flails her arms around trying to come up with something and finally gives up. "… it's embarrassing," she says, looking down at her hands.

I kneel down in front of her. "Oh, princess," I say, raising her chin with my finger, "you can tell me anything. I won't scream at you."

"It's just… I feel closer to Dad that way."

My breath catches in my throat.

"In what way, honey?" I finally muster the courage to say.

"In the drinking tea way. I just thought maybe he was drinking tea at the same time I was and… I don't know… like that would make me feel closer to him. I know, weird…"

I don't know what to say. She looks so sad right now; so small and defenseless. I just wrap my arms around her small little body and hug her. But I'm too tired and my mind can't work properly right now.

"I'm going to go to sleep right now; I'll talk to you about this after I wake up, okay?" I tell her. She nods her head, wiping a tear from her cheek.

I don't want to leave her crying, but I'm so tired I might pass out from exhaustion. As I head to my room, my eyes close. I fall into my bed; my mind is still clouded and tired and I can't think straight. I close my eyes for about five minutes when I hear someone scream and then James saying, "You are so in trouble, David!" I quickly get up and head to the living room, picking up shoes in the hallway as I walk. I have to clean today.

I get to where they're standing, James and David, starring at Olive who is drenched in Kool-Aid.

My eyes go quickly to David who is holding a pitcher of Kool-Aid.

"Nope, drinks don't help either," he tells me innocently.

"David," I say, "what do you think about taking piano lessons?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So there you go tell me what you guys thought, I made it long since I didn't update in quite a while. **

**The triplets are going to pemberly! Just for a day though…. **

**I'm super excited about the next chapter since that's the Lucas party the one pride and prejudice starts off at. I want to change that scene a little bit maybe include some other scenes from the book that happened a little bit further in the timeline. I have a question would you mind if I changed a little bit of the timeline? Even though I already changed it a lot but the way the scenes work. Or do you want me to stick to the book order?**

**also would did you guys think of Darcy's and Elizabeth's meeting?**

**Please let me know! And please review that is what keeps me writing! It helps me update faster too!**

**Thanks to my beta Julianabr again! Whose the grammar queen!**

**Btw she didn't correct the authors notes, so all of my bad grammar is totally my fault.**

**Like always review and I will give out virtual cereal!**


	6. Numbers Are Better Than People

**A/N: ANSWERING TEAM CEREAL QUESTIONS (sorry but it's the Special K kind, no frosted flakes for you guys have to help fight obesity)**

**So the question everyone was asking is if Darcy recognized her.**

**A reviewer said that I should do a Darcy point of view chapter since the last chapter Darcy was shown as a little jerkish. **

**But the thing is that I wanted to do the whole story from elizabeths point of view, just learn what she knows. **

**But I trust your opinion of you guys a lot since you were the ones who recommended a flashback so I decided to do a Darcy point of view.**

**Me and my beta (julianabr) went back and forth for a whole week trying to figure out if we should post this chapter. At the end my beta convinced me to post it. **

**So here's last chapter from darcys point of view. I hope you guys enojoy it**

**Oh and thanks for sticking with this story.**

**Gracias a los lectores en español que han seguido leyendo esta historia y dejando comentarios diciéndome lo que piensan acerca de la historia. Sus comentarios me animan a seguir escribiendo pues me gusta ver que tengo lectores de diferentes países y lenguajes **

**Agradeço também aos meus portugués leitores que lêem minha história. **

* * *

><p>I start counting down the seconds.<p>

_Ten, the number of unsigned documents I have on my desk. _

_Nine, the number of people waiting on them._

_Eight, the number of times my secretary has reminded me about them in the past hour._

_Seven, how many times I have thought, 'what am I doing here?' today._

_Six, the number of days I have gone without proper sleep._

_Five, the hour at which I fell asleep last night (well, this morning)._

_Four, the average number of hours I sleep each day._

_Three, the number of people I actually trust._

_Two, the number of people who have changed the course of my life._

_One, the number of nights I have had sufficient sleep in my adult life._

_Zero, the number of people waiting for me when I get home._

I smile as my watch goes off just as I finish my countdown, alerting me that it's nine in the morning and in 15 minutes I have to be in a board meeting.

Ever since I can remember, numbers have been a central part of my life.

'_Ten more years and all of this will be yours_,' I remember my father telling me.

'_Nine more days until your sister is born_,' I remember my mother saying.

'_Eight more minutes until you give your valedictory speech_,' my teacher told me.

'_Seven more hours until this chapter of your life closes,'_ my sister told me the day before she turned eighteen.

'_Six hours she stayed here, waiting,'_ the barista told me.

Six hours.

I shake my head from these thoughts as I align the pencils perfectly on my desk.

I don't like disorder. I detest confusion and disorganization. Charles tells me I suffer from OCD, that I'm an obsessive perfectionist lad, but I disagree. There is nothing obsessive about liking everything to be neat and orderly.

I fix my shirt cuffs as I grab some paperwork that has to be done. Infinite numbers and letters all align perfectly for my view. Pages of figures and graphs showing me the fruits of my hard labor.

Georgiana tells me that I should spend less time stuck in my office surrounded by numbers and more time with people and having fun. But I'd rather spend my day with numbers than with people. At least with numbers, you know what to expect; you know the answers, you can predict the outcome. With numbers, I can understand the big picture. With people, not so much.

Numbers have been my loyal companions all my life. They have been there through all my problems and tragedies. They are really the only stable thing I have. They never change.

So instead of socializing, as Georgiana would prefer, I throw myself into work and numbers. For over 15 years, I've been swimming in endless letters and digits, drowning in them. I've never even pulled myself up to breathe. Except that one time. For one week. Seven days.

I hear a knock on my door and a female voice say, "May I come in?"

"Yes, you may," I respond.

"Good morning, Mr. Darcy. Are you busy?" Mrs. Reynolds asks. She has been working here since before I can remember. She was my father's secretary before, and now she is mine.

"Busy in what kind of way, Mrs. Reynolds? There are many definitions for 'busy'. 'Busy' as in 'full of activity or work, engaged in action, occupied'? Or more of the 'busy' where I am not at leisure?"

She raises an eyebrow in inquiry, her face showing me a stern countenance in reply.

Then she starts laughing, her gray hair falling into her face as she shakes her head. Any other person would be truly mad. But I've known her my entire life. She's more a grandmother to me than anything else.

I sigh and give her a slight smile, "Yes, I'm busy, but I have time to hear what you have to say."

"Well, I came to remind you of the signatures we need from you. Especially concerning four of those papers," she says pointing at the papers on my desk. "Have you read them?"

I shake my head in resignation.

"Well, sir," she says, controlling her laughter as she opens a folder in her hands. "The Walter and Miriam School for the Gifted has four students who want to tour the place for a report they're doing. They wrote some very compelling essays as to why they wanted to come here for a day."

I think about this. I really don't like having children in the building. They represent the extreme edge of the unpredictability of people. Just thinking of the noise and chaos as they run through the halls gives me a headache. I also don't want a liability issue if one of the little delinquents breaks something and hurts themselves. The last thing I need is some parent filing a lawsuit.

"I don't know if that would be a good idea. Too much risk to the company," I tell her honestly, if not completely truthfully.

She rolls her eyes knowing the real reason is my problems with noise and disorderliness.

"Well, I think it would be a great idea. You should seriously look over some of these essays and resumes. These are no typical children. Their I.Q. scores are unbelievable. Robert and Mathew," she says picking up two of the papers from her folder, "both geniuses in the science department. Both of them are ten years old and their level scores are what you would expect of a college student," she says in awe, her eyes becoming big as she inspects the papers. She picks up another two papers. "William and Olivia, brother and sister, are both also ten – I imagine they are twins," she says, scanning the papers in front of her. "William is a prodigy in the math department. Quite a talent too, says here that he was on his old school's math team, winning second place at the national level. And Olivia was accepted at Walter and Miriam's School for the Gifted because of her exceptional talents with robotics and mechanics. Her essay was my favorite; she has so much passion for such a little girl! And she completely idolizes you, by the way. She mentioned you were her hero and that her biggest dream was to meet you one day." She closes her folder and looks up at me. "William, are you really going to thwart little Olivia's dream because you are worried about noise? I think you should reconsider and let these children come here for a day. They are exceptional children."

I think about what she's said. They don't sound like the unruly children I see in stores throwing tantrums. Robert and Mathew seem like good kids, even if they do like science; something I was never really good at. William's background kind of reminds me of myself at that age. I loved math and I still do. We even have the same name. And Olivia reminds me of my sister's old doll who sits on her shelf in her room. She still hangs on to it after all this time, saying it reminds her of happy memories. But most of all, Olivia reminds me of my father, who loved tinkering with anything and everything. Especially computers. He built this company with his hard work and tinkering.

"I need to know, William, so I can tell the school. If you don't want them here, I will need to call them right now so they can tell the children to pursue another company."

For some reason, the thought of the smile falling off Olivia's face makes me distressed. I don't want to be the reason for this little girl's sadness. Especially since she considers me her hero. And for some reason, I feel a pang of jealousy when I think about these children going to a different company.

"Call the school, and tell them it's fine if they tour the place."

She smiles at me. "I knew you weren't heartless, William," she says. Walking out, she stops. "Oh, by the way, William, you're late to your meeting," she says sweetly as she closes the door.

* * *

><p>"Charles, I'm not going to go with you to meet your new angel-of-the-month," I tell Charles, who is running, trying to catch up to me as I head to my board meeting. A flash of red hair appears in front of me, stopping me from walking further. I let out an exasperated sigh. Charles is trying to convince me to go to lunch with him and his new mystery girl. Poor lad, women use him like he was a puppet on strings. Can't he see they are only after his money?<p>

"I'm telling you, Darcy, she's different. She's smart and sweet, and I know for a fact that she's not after my money," He tells me, already knowing what I'm thinking. We've known each other for 22 years; we can practically read each other's minds. "She's a doctor and she volunteers her time in a clinic for underprivileged people who can't afford to see one. And she doesn't get paid! Does that sound like a woman who is after money? She's truly an angel, Darcy," he implores me.

His cheeks are red from trying to catch up to me, making his freckles more pronounced. His big blue eyes are entreating me to reconsider. He looks like a child right now; he has so much innocence even though he is 35. I think that's the reason why women are always taking advantage of him. It always falls to to me to rescue him from the clutches of these predatory women.

Charles is a hopeless romantic, and never sees these women for who they are.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to find words that will convince him that I'm right. "First of all, you've had so many angels, you make Victoria's Secret envious. Or did you forget the angel you swore fell from heaven two months ago?" I ask him. "And secondly, all women are after money."

He starts laughing. "Oh, Darcy," he chuckles, "are you making a joke?"

I frown at that.

"Charles, I don't have time for this. I have to go to a meeting," I say impatiently, walking past him.

"The girl from the café wasn't after your money!" Charles yells.

I turn around to face him and see a decided look in his face.

"Maybe this girl will be like your café girl. Please, Darcy, please meet her and tell me what you think," he begs.

I'm still in shock at what he just said. He mentioned the café girl. He mentioned Elizabeth. Even though I told him a year ago that I was through looking for her and

I never wanted to be reminded of her again. Charles must really like this girl if he is using the 'Elizabeth card' on me.

Nine years I spent looking for her.

Nine whole years.

I had moved to Manhattan just for hoping to find her.

_No, Darcy, don't think of her. Stop thinking about Elizabeth. You've moved on. _

"You have to relax, Darcy," Charles says looking up at me. "When was the last time you took a vacation? And don't tell me it was when you took a week off to be with Elizabeth, because that was over ten years ago," he tells me with a concerned expression.

I look at Charles, my best friend since childhood. If he wants me to meet this woman, I will meet her.

"This is the last time I will meet one of your angels, Charles," I tell him pointedly, as I run off to my meeting.

"You said that last time," Charles says, chuckling.

* * *

><p>"<em>I hear Pemberley corporation has a net worth of $75 billion!" a redheaded woman squeals to her blonde companion. <em>

"_And it doesn't hurt that the CEO is one hot piece of body. Just look at him!" the blond friend loudly whispers._

I can sense all the women staring at me as I sit in the restaurant waiting for Charles. I don't know if they think I can't hear them, or if they think I'm not paying attention, or if they just don't care. Elizabeth once told me that I was attractive, and that's why I captured the attention of so many women. What she didn't know is that it isn't really me or my face and body that gets the attention, but it is due to yet another number: My 'net worth' which seems to float above my head and follow me everywhere I go.

I look down at my hands and I noticed that I have completely destroyed my napkin, making it totally useless. I quickly put it down, hoping no one sees me. If my parents taught me anything, it was manners. Never give people something to gossip about. Even if it's something as small as my habit of twisting my napkins when I'm uncomfortable.

"You're late, Charles," I tell him, as he sits in front of me at a table on the patio. I thought being outside would help me breathe and, for at least some moments, hide me away from the predatory glances inside the restaurant. However, I was mistaken and all the women have followed me outside.

"I'm sorry. Caroline was having some problems and she asked me to help her," Charles says, his cheeks red again from running.

If there's one thing I don't envy my friend for, it's having a sister like Caroline. Don't get me wrong, I don't detest her. She has to be the only other woman I talk to that is not my secretary or my sister. It's just she's really overly dramatic.

"You know who else is late?" I ask Charles.

He feigns ignorance, even though I know he knows. "No, I have no idea, Darcy. Who?"

"Your angel," I grumble.

"_Can you imagine being married to a man like that?" I hear another woman whisper_

"_I only need a night with him, that's it," I hear another voice say. "One night is all it takes and I'm pregnant," she giggles._

"_Can you imagine the child support check?"_

"_I heard he's the only living heir to Pemberley…"_

"_I wouldn't mind him being my baby-daddy…"_

"_$75 billion!"_

"_One child and all of that is mine…"_

I try to drown out all the voices. Charles seems ignorant to what's happening, probably thinking of his angel. He thinks all is goodness in the world and no woman would love him only for his money.

He is so naïve.

All women are gold diggers.

Well, Elizabeth was an exception.

No, Darcy, stop thinking about her.

"Jane looks like an angel. An angel that has come down from the heavens," Charles says lovingly.

I roll my eyes at this, "If I remember my bible correctly, the angels that fell from heaven became demons."

Charles ignores me and chuckles. "Jane is an angel… I can't wait for you to meet her. She has beautiful blond hair and gorgeous dark blue eyes," Charles says, snapping me back to the present. "I'm telling you, Darcy, she's perfect."

"_Who's his friend?" I hear someone whisper._

"_That's Charles Bingley, heir to Netherfield Hotels."_

"_Well, I want him. I've always liked redheads. Imagine how much money __that__ family has," she giggles._

I tense. Hearing this, I vow that no woman is going to use my friend for his money. He doesn't deserve that. He is the only goodness and kindness left in this world.

"You say that about every girl you meet, Charles," I say, trying to sound disinterested in the conversation; trying to make him realize this girl is no different from the rest of them.

Charles laughs, clearly knowing what I'm trying to do. "Jane is such an angel. Did you know that she just moved here to Manhattan? She used to live in Atlanta with her sister, who's a single mother, helping her raise her three children. Jane said that she was going to try to arrange for me to meet her sister, too."

My anger starts to boil. Can't Charles see what Jane is trying to do? "I would not like to meet a woman like that," I tell him honestly. "Think about it, Charles. She's a single mother with three children, I bet each one from a different father. She must be waiting to catch herself a rich husband so she can stop working at the local supermarket, and make the poor guy maintain her and her bastards. I bet your beautiful angel just wants you to meet her sister so you can marry her," I tell him, taking a sip from my soda.

This is so obvious to me; I just don't get how Charles doesn't see it. "It's clear this Jane woman is trying to set you up with her sister." I tell him, "do you really want a woman no one else wants? If anyone wanted her, she wouldn't still be single. She probably had those children just trying to catch a man and keep him by her side. Or maybe she's looking for a child support check." A small laugh escapes my mouth, "Great plan that turned out to be, if that was her plan."

I'm about to continue talking to Charles, when I see him staring at something over my shoulder.

"May I help you?" He asks.

"Well actually, yes," a sweet, melodious female voice says from behind me.

I know that voice.

It's the voice that haunts me in my dreams. Sweet as honey.

I turn around, knowing that once I do, I will probably wake up from this dream.

But I don't wake up.

Instead, I see a woman who looks like she must be in her mid-twenties or younger. She's wearing a flowing skirt with a white blouse, her long black hair falling in waves down her back. She looks like something that came out of a fairy tale book. She looks like a nymph. She's beautiful, but not the beauty I've been searching for the last ten years.

Her hair is too dark and not curly enough. She's too thin. Her sunglasses keep me from seeing her eyes, but I bet they are not the soft brown I'm hoping for. And the face that is supposed to be full of life and joy, is formed into a frown.

No. This is not the woman from my dreams.

This woman is all wrong. My heart falls as I realize that she is not my Elizabeth.

Even so, I feel like I do recognize her from somewhere else. Ahhhh… She's the homeless woman who dumped her hot chocolate all over me.

"You!" I say, standing up knocking over my chair. I'm furious, less angry about my ruined shirt than I am that she is not my Elizabeth.

"Really, G-d?" she says looking up at the sky. "What have I done to deserve this?!" she yells.

I want to laugh at her theatrics. So she does recognize me.

As I look at her, I see different emotions cross her face. It's as if she is battling with herself. Finally, she walks towards me with a decided look in her face.

And slaps me.

The little elf slapped me!

I check myself from hitting her back as I glare at her. She's turning red from how angry she is.

Why would she be mad? It should be me who's angry! I'm the one who just got slapped!

This is a whole new level of crazy.

"What's happening here?" Charlie says, standing up from his chair. I want to roll my eyes at him. Can't he tell? This crazy woman just slapped me. I look at the people around us, all with shocked expressions on their faces and whispering to each other. They are all amazed that a woman just slapped William Darcy.

The William Darcy.

I wait for her to answer to Charles's question but she only glares at me, so I speak up.

"This woman is the psychotic elf from yesterday," I say simply, knowing Charles fully well knows what I'm talking about. He heard me rant about it for a whole hour yesterday.

"I am not psychotic!" the imp yells, as she rips off her sunglasses. Poor woman, she's making it easier for me to prove her dementia. Some strands of her black hair have fallen into her face. Her anger is evident as she stands there scowling.

"Well, who else slaps a stranger in the middle of the restaurant, you gnome!" I yell back at her. I am not going to let a crazy person win an argument against me. Especially since we have captured the attention of everyone in the restaurant.

"I am not short, I am 5'9"! So stop calling me an elf and a gnome, you jerk!" She says, her voice getting quieter at the end, as she spots the people watching us.

I want to laugh at this. This is so hilarious. The nerve of the woman to call herself tall when she's craning her neck to look up at me. I have to give it to her, no one ever argues with me this way. I step forward and glare down at her, trying to control my laughter. Her eyes become wide as she realizes how tall I am, but then she straightens up and a frown takes hold of her tiny face. She's trying to let me know she's not intimidated.

Cute.

"How do you know each other?" Charlie asks, coming to stand in between us.

"She's the witch that dropped her hot chocolate all over me. Now tell me, imp, why are you following me?" I ask her, trying to get her mad to see how she will react.

I have to admit getting her mad is quite entertaining.

No woman has ever stood up to me like she has.

Except for one. The one I have been looking for since the day I found out she didn't read my note. Since the day the barista told me she stayed in the café for six hours, crying.

The woman straightens her skirt as she blinks. I finally notice the color of her eyes: brown. My brain wrestles with this. She can't be Elizabeth. She looks too different. Can ten years change a person that much?

One, two, three times she blinks.

She's confused. I can see it in her soft brown eyes.

I remember watching Elizabeth blink to get her composure back. But I shake the thought away. This angry demon can't be the quirky and joyful girl I met ten years ago.

She just can't be.

The woman in front of me is full of hatred and resentment.

She starts combing her hair with her fingers. She curls her pinky in a strand of hair as she's deep in thought.

I choke on a gasp of air, as I recall watching Elizabeth across the table from me, twirling her hair, deep in thought.

No. This isn't Elizabeth, I tell myself. It can't be her. No one could change that much.

Suddenly I feel a rush of anger as I realize what must be happening. This girl is trying to imitate Elizabeth. My aunt is trying to make me see things that aren't there. She's trying to break me.

Anger boils inside of me as I think of this.

She has started to look at me, examining me from head to toe. She still hasn't given me an answer to my question.

"I'll ask you again, why are you following me?!" I snap at her.

"Following you?" she chuckles. I realize I could lose myself in her honey-like laugh, all warm and inviting. But she does not intend for this laugh to be either warm or inviting. She is laughing at me, as if I'm a fool.

I frown.

"You, sir, have given me a good laugh!" she says wiping a fake tear from her eye.

"Do not mock me!" I grit through my teeth.

"Please don't give yourself too much credit. The last thing I want to do I see your face again," she says, calmly taking a seat in our table, like she owned the place.

I scowl at her antics.

She's teasing me.

And only one woman I know gets that honor, and it's not this crazy imposter.

"Who are you? Is this some kind of joke? Are you a journalist? Paparazzi? Did my aunt send you? She's trying to make me look mentally unstable so she can take over the company, isn't she?" I snap at the paid actress my aunt has hired. I run my hands through my hair.

I swear I'm going mad.

"Geesh, dude, paranoid much?" she interrupts my thoughts, grabbing my shoulder and pushing me down into the seat.

Time stops for a moment.

_Geesh, dude, paranoid much?_

That's what she said. That first day in the café, asking me something about contact lenses. She pushed me down into my seat, sat at my table and said to me, "Geesh, dude, paranoid much?"

Oh my God. This is no actress. This is Elizabeth.

This is Elizabeth.

This is Elizabeth

**This. Is. Elizabeth.**

I want to explode from excitement. But I quickly try to hide my feelings away. A good thing, as I realize she hasn't given any signs she recognizes me.

Wait. She doesn't know who I am.

She has forgotten about me.

She has forgotten about us.

The day I left her to go to work, I was so excited she would call, so excited to see her again. I was going to ask her to be my girlfriend. I was really ready to propose to her that day, but I knew that would just scare her off. But that day I knew. She was it for me. She was the one.

I had never met a woman like her. With so much life and energy and mirth. She didn't know who I was, and didn't really care. She had no clue I was William Darcy with a net worth floating over my head. All my life I had been treated differently because I was a Darcy, but Elizabeth treated me like she would treat anyone. She teased me whenever was possible and even laughed at me. When she told me she hated expensive restaurants, I wanted to kiss her.

The day we went window-shopping, as she called it, I had to restrain myself from buying her everything she touched or even glanced at. I had seen so many women laughing and enjoying themselves when they went shopping with their boyfriends or husbands, but inside of me I always thought the men were idiots. Couldn't they see the women were only happy because they were spending someone else's money? She wasn't after my money and anyone could see it.

With Elizabeth, it was different. She enjoyed that day not because I bought her stuff – because I didn't. She enjoyed herself because she was with me. She was happy just to be hanging out with me. She didn't need me to buy her anything. My presence made her happy. Just me.

The day she approached me in the café I thought it was a joke. Charles and Georgiana were constantly giving me a hard time that I would never talk to a woman, even if she fell from the sky. And even if I did try to talk, I would be too socially awkward and she'd run away.

I had never felt so alive in my entire life, before or after, as I felt that week.

When I got home, I told Georgiana and Charles all about the woman from the café. How she didn't know who I was. How quirky she was and the weird things she would do. How much fun I had with her. That's when I decided I wanted to spend as much time as I could with her.

The next day I was too much of a coward to ask if I could spend the rest of the week with her. When I finally got the courage to ask, I almost laughed out loud when she asked me if my boss would mind me taking vacation time off.

If only she knew. I was the boss.

She was extraordinary.

I loved the way she had dessert before her dinner. Or the way she didn't care what people thought and liked to dance in random places. Or how she made me loosen up and try new and different things, like paintball. I loved that she only cared about good food and company, not how fancy the restaurant was. And I loved the way she ordered a burger without one thought about the calories.

I loved every single thing about her.

All her weirdness and quirks. Her babbles and rants. Her random facts and the moments of awkwardness.

I loved all of it.

I come back to the present as she stands before me, ten years later. I look at her soft brown eyes. She's looking at me studying me, as if she was waiting on something. Waiting on what, I have no idea.

But she doesn't remember me.

And it hurts…

Really badly…

"Who are you?" I finally say after trying to get my breath back. "And what are you doing here?"

Languid, weary. That's how she makes me feel right now, and I hate it. I have never felt so weak in my entire life. My mind and body are just spent. She sucked up all my energy and left me lifeless.

And all with a simple glance.

She looks at me and I see a flash of pain in her eyes. Even though I am the one in pain. I was obviously not important enough for her to remember.

Her eyes change, and a decided and defiant look fills them.

"Hi!" she says cheerfully, directing her attention to Charles and away from me. "I'm Jane's sister."

Elizabeth is Jane's sister.

I try to hide my shock from her.

Of course she would be Jane's sister. Best friends falling in love with two sisters. The cliché of all this really humors me.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Charles says with a big smile. Of course he would be happy about anything to do with his angel. "You're as beautiful as Jane!"

I glare at the both of them. Charles is grinning broadly at Elizabeth and Elizabeth is smiling back. Is she attracted to Charles? I look at Charles. Does he like Elizabeth? I wouldn't put it above him since he falls in love with different woman every day.

The thought of Charles with Elizabeth feels me with jealousy.

"Please sit down," Charles says. "We've already ordered but they still haven't brought the food out. Would you like something to drink?" he asks Elizabeth

I want to correct him and tell him I ordered for him since he was late but I choose otherwise.

I sit down beside Charles, realizing that sitting beside Elizabeth would be torture for me at this point. Ten years of looking for her. Praying to see her. And when I finally do, she doesn't know who I am. All she knows is that I'm the guy who called her an elf, so I doubt she really wants to sit beside me anyway.

"Do you know what you want to order?" the waitress asks her.

Hot chocolate I think. She loves hot chocolate. But it's not cold enough outside. She'll want a coke.

"I'll have a coke," she tells the waitress.

I want to smile. Not everything has changed.

"Anything else?" the waitress asks.

"You wouldn't happen to have a Big Mac would you?" she jokes.

This makes the waitress scrunch up her eyebrows in confusion.

I have to stifle a laugh. She's still the same Elizabeth with her weird jokes that no one gets.

She whispers something underneath her breath as her eyes scan the menu, confused. She doesn't like expensive restaurants, so I doubt she'll find what she wants.

"What do you recommend?" she asks Charles.

He shrugs. "I don't know. I usually come to Manhattan just for business so I don't get out to restaurants much, but Darcy here…" he says slapping my back. I cringe at his touch. He knows I hate people touching me and invading my personal space. And if someone invades said personal space, it makes me turn into, as Charles puts it, 'an OCD monster'. "Darcy has been living here for quite a while now," Charles finishes saying.

I glare at Charles. He knows I hate being put on the spot. Now Elizabeth is looking at me expectantly. I can barely remember my own name whenever I'm around this woman. And now he's making me speak?

"I usually don't like recommending food. I detest hearing people whine to me later about how they don't like it," I tell her honestly, thinking about the time Caroline told me to order something I liked for her. I ordered her a burger with everything, the same way Elizabeth used to love. She immediately started whining about all the fat and the calories.

Her complaining literally gave me a migraine.

"Do you think so lowly of your taste palate that you think everyone will hate the food you recommend?" she asks, leaning unconsciously towards me in her chair. I try to control my breathing. Having her so near me is making me want to shake her and make her remember me. Make her remember about us.

"No, I think highly of my taste palate," I tell her. "It's the taste palate of others I think so lowly of."

"Give me the greasiest plate you have. Actually, make that two plates and put one in a to-go box," she tells the waitress.

My ears perk up at this. Two plates. Does she have someone else at home? Is she involved with another man?

No, don't think negatively, Darcy. She's probably ordering something for dinner also.

"Oh, and can you bring me the sweetest dessert you have first, and then bring out the entrée?" she smiles up at the waitress.

She's still the same Elizabeth. Eating her dessert before her dinner. I feel proud that I know why; it's like I'm in on a secret.

The waitress looks confused with her order but doesn't say anything. But I can tell the waitress likes her by the way she smiles and walks away. She's never smiled before when I've eaten here.

I envy Elizabeth, because of the way she converses with people, putting them at ease, making them like her.

I remember being in London with her and how easily she made friends. She'd talk with everyone we met. The florist, the waitress, the store clerk; she'd even strike up a conversation with the person standing in line in front of us. The awkward guy sitting by himself in the café.

I loved her for that – her friendly nature.

"You have desert first?" Charlie finally asks her.

She nods her head, her black hair falling into her face. She brushes her hair from her face with such a swift and delicate move, it makes her seem even more beautiful.

"That's quite strange," Charlie says suspiciously. "How do you two know each other again?" he continues, clearly remembering our emotional interaction. He looks at Elizabeth and then at me with a knowing smile.

Oh, God. Charles remembers I told him Elizabeth always ate her dessert first.

"He bumped into me making me spill my precious hot chocolate." Elizabeth snaps while glaring at me.

"I did no such thing, you bumped into me." I snap back.

We continued fighting, as she wont admit she's wrong. I try to keep the argument going, so Charles won't engage her in flirty banter anymore. I hate to admit that watching them smile at each other fills me with jealousy.

She's dangerous.

The term nymph fits her so well. The Greeks described these dangerous godesses as able to strike their victims dumb, bring madness, and bring unrelenting infatuation.

I feel exactly like one of those unfortunate mortals.

I desperately try to hold in all I've wanted to say to her these past ten years.

I try to distract myself with numbers. I count the tiles in the floor. The number windows. The numbers of brunettes and blondes. Peoples with and without glasses. Then I combine and divide these numbers over and over again, trying desperately not to think of anything else. If I think about her, I won't be able to keep it all back.

"You have black hair so I'm guessing you're the 24 year old microbiologist sister?" Charles asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I go stiff when I hear this. Elizabeth is 24? That would hae made her 14 when I met her. My god I slept with a minor!

"No," she responds, "you have me confused with my younger sister, Mary. She has short black hair, and I have the long black hair."

I immediately relax. She wasn't 14. Now thinking about, it she did mention a younger sister who she used to star gaze with.

"Oh. Then, which one are you?" Charles asks.

"I'm the single mom of three who works in a supermarket and is trying to catch a rich husband so he can maintain my bastard children, who by the way, are all from different fathers." Elizabeth answers, glaring at me.

Elizabeth has three kids.

Elizabeth has three kids.

Three.

The number three swims in my mind. It swims to the darkest corners of my consciousness, visiting my billions of neurons, then taking a tour of my cerebral cortex, the number three dances in my neurotransmitters and receptors, and finally makes its home deep in my mind. I will never be able to move it out of there.

Three kids.

She just didn't forget about me, she did something much worse. She removed me and the thought of me completely from her life.

She made a life with someone else.

With another man.

Not me.

God, how I wish those three kids were mine.

"If you're looking for an apology, you won't find one here," I finally tell her.

"Oh, I know I won't get an apology from someone like you."

"So what are you doing here in Manhattan? Are you visiting?" Charles asks, in an attempt to keep things pleasant.

She shakes her head. "No, I'm moving back to the city. I've been here around a week, and it's actually the first time I've gone somewhere that hasn't been the store, school, my parents' house, work or my apartment. I think if it wasn't for Jane making me come here, I would have never taken he time to explore a little more Manhattan."

"So nice of Jane," I mumble sarcastically.

"What are you really trying to say? Just spit it out." Elizabeth spits out, glaring at me.

This is not how I imagined our reunion would be. This is not what I want.

But watching her smile and talk with Charles turns me into the green-eyed monster. "I just think it's a little convenient that Jane had an unexpected surgery and that you just mysteriously decide to move here a week after Jane meets Charles."

Her mouth hangs open. She's completely shocked by my statement. I know Elizabeth would never do such a thing, but her sister just might. She's the same as all the other scheming women.

"Aw, darn! You caught me. I took my three children out of school, moved them all across the country, changing states, just so I could meet a guy my sister likes and steal him away from her. Who, by the way, I had never met and who, prior to getting here, I thought might be a potential rapist-murderer."

I frown at this. That is not what I was trying to say. I was not trying to offend her. I was trying to make her realize that maybe her sister had other plans by making her come here today.

She ignores me and continues to talk with Charles. I look at her closely and think about how much she has changed. Her hair, the weariness in her face, her too-thin frame. But the greatest difference is that Elizabeth is now a mother.

I snap out of my reverie when she looks directly at me and answers a question of Charles. "The oldest is seven," she says. She must be talking about her children. "The middle one is five and the baby is three."

They are very little, I think. They couldn't be mine. She had her first child 3 years after meeting me.

"Oh, they're little," Charles says, voicing my same thoughts.

The waitress puts my plate in front of me and I watch as she sets a miniature pie in front of Elizabeth. It looks horrible. Elizabeth must be thinking the same thing as me because she frowns when she sees it.

"My oldest is called 'James', " she says answering some question Charles asked her as I was starring at my food. "The middle one is 'David' and my baby's name is 'Ol-" she hesitates before answering and then continues, "'Olpa'!"

Olpa? Why would she give her child such a hideous name?

"Olpa?" Charles asks.

"Yeah, as in the Greek goddess of…war. Her name means… small warrior…its totally chic," she says.

Something is wrong here. The Greek god of war is Ares. Or maybe she was thinking of the goddess of battle… but that's wrong too, she's named Athena. Is she mixing it up the Greek and Roman gods? But, no, that would be Mars.

Something is not right here.

This whole conversation about Elizabeth's children is making me very uncomfortable. I can't stop thinking about the fact that while I was out looking for her, she was making a life with another man.

Another man… who?

I need to ask Elizabeth who this man is. Do I know him?

I look down at my hands, where I've destroyed another napkin.

"What happened to the children's father?" I blurt out, unable to stop myself.

She looks startled that I even spoke. She must have forgotten I was here.

"…Or fathers," I add quickly, wanting to know if she had children with more than one man.

"He was an inconsiderate jerk who left me, and I truly want to have nothing to do with him," she says, her voice reflecting anger.

So it was only one guy, and he left her. Idiot. The man must have been truly mad to leave a woman like Elizabeth.

I try to keep track of the rest of the conversation, but lunch went by in a blur. All I could think of was the number three. It floated at the edges of my brain; taunting, mocking, teasing me.

Three children. My Elizabeth is a mother of three.

The only other thing I could remember about the rest of the meal is the sparkle In her eyes whoever she talked about her children. It was nice to see the joy and mirth replace the anger and bitterness on her face.

When Charles went to the bathroom he winked at me, so I knew he had done it on purpose to give me time with her. I have no idea what he was thinking.

I kept my conversation with her short and to the point. I was afraid if I spoke too much I would just blurt out who I was. I'm William. From London. From the café.

I kept trying to concentrate on numbers in my head. I counted everything I could think of, from the number of times a waiter said, "What would you like to drink?" to the numbers of threads per square inch on the table cloth.

When Elizabeth asked me if 'Darcy' was my last name, for a sliver of a second I was hopeful she had remembered who I was. That she remembered my first name was William, but wanted to know my last name. But that dream was soon crushed when she continued, saying she knew it wasn't my first since 'Darcy' was such a girl's name.

When the lunch ended I couldn't say goodbye because I knew I couldn't hold in that we had met before.

Charles and I walked back to work. I must have been more silent than I usually am, because he asks, "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Why do you ask?" I respond simply, trying to deflect his curiosity.

"You just acted weird in there; you were acting pretty mad with Lizzy."

Lizzy. He called her Lizzy. Charles must know my Elizabeth and this Elizabeth are one and the same. He must.

"Is it because she reminds you of Elizabeth?" he asks.

I look up at him and I can tell he's worried for me. But he must not realize who she is, since he's not going on and on about how I finally found my café girl.

I shake my head in answer, "I just have a headache."

Charles looks like he doesn't buy it, but he doesn't pressure me to keep talking. He chuckles as he shakes his head, "And then you ask why people think your autistic."

"I just want this day to end," I tell him honestly.

What I don't tell him is that I just want to forget about Elizabeth.

* * *

><p>I glance at the clock. Two in the morning and I'm just getting home. Life for me has always been based on precise moments of time. Punctuality is what I govern myself with. If we don't respect time, what does that say about ourselves? Time has always existed and it will exist way after we're gone. And time comes hand in hand with numbers, my old friends. I look at the clock as it ticks away the seconds that are whispering a sad goodbye to me.<p>

Seven is the number Elizabeth said was the unluckiest.

Six is the number I hate the most. The number doomed by fate.

Five is the number I have the most in common with. It's the only odd number deemed in math to be an 'untouchable number'. That's me. Odd and untouchable.

Four is the number of times Charles has called me today to see if I'm all right.

Three is the number of Elizabeth's children.

Two, one and zero are the numbers on my clock. It's exactly 2:10 in the morning as I enter my kitchen. My kitchen, all stainless steel and neat lines. Pristine and clean just how I like it. Disorder and disorganization give me a headache.

I start the routine I go through every night when I get home. Take the plate from the fridge that the maid cooked for me, and stick it in the microwave. When it's warm enough, I sit at the kitchen island and align the utensils perfectly before I begin. Fork, spoon and knife: Three pieces of silverware.

Three.

I grunt in exasperation. Everywhere I look now that number follows me. I put the spoon back in a drawer since I won't need it. I look back down and realign the remaining two utensils.

Much better.

Silence pervades the room. Usually I treasure the silence, but tonight it just feels wrong. I feel suffocated by it.

I try to distract myself by counting the mail I just received. Nine envelopes to be exact.

I open one of them. It's a fundraiser for a hospital.

I think Charles said that he wanted to go he was pleading me to go with him.

I decide to go to help distract myself from thought of Elizabeth. I have to stay busy because counting isn't working as well as it usually does. So many of the numbers remind me of her, especially three and six.

I pick up my trash and throw it away; wash the plate and the cup I drank out of. I hate going to sleep with the house a mess even if it's just something as little as a dirty cup.

I change clothes to go to sleep. I brush my teeth, counting every brush stroke.

I crawl into bed and I lay there, thinking about today, about Elizabeth. Something wasn't right with her, and it wasn't just the effect of ten years on her face. She was hiding something. I know it.

She has a secret.

I wish I could be her journal. The place where she writes all her secrets.

Write on me, I'll memorize every sentence every word and letter. Tattoo on my mind every noun and verb. Let her tears soak my pages as she fills me with her deepest thoughts, those locked away in her heart. I would be the key to free her from her secrets and pain. Yes, I would love to be her journal.

Even more, I wish I could be her love again.

But I know I can't. My family would throw a fit. I can't imagine the face of my aunt Catherine as I tell her I'm in love with a single mother of three.

No, I could never do that.

As the heir to Pemberley and all our other businesses, I have a duty to marry well. I am expected to marry a respectable woman from my own sphere, who would be the mother of my children. The children who would carry on the Darcy name. The children who would carry on the legacy after me.

And Elizabeth is just not that woman.

If I tried to be with Elizabeth, my parents would resurrect from the dead, just to slap some sense into me.

I start counting again as I drift off to sleep.

One, I have to forget Elizabeth.

Two, I have to rip her away from my mind and memories.

Three, I must forget Elizabeth, as she has forgotten me.

* * *

><p><strong>AN I hope you guys liked it. It was really hard to write this chapter since it was in a darcy point of view**

**I really don't know how a lot of people can write from the point of view from different characters**

**My props to them**

**Anyways im so happy since I already wrote the next chapter and my beta has it editing right now.**

**Now I don't know if I should just post it up immediately or wait till Saturday that way I know that I have something done to post. Since Saturdays are the days that im trying to post updates in.**

**Im trying to give myself deadlines since that's the only way I can do my work. **

**I have serious procrosination issues**

**But thanks for everyone's reviews honestly I read all of them and I take each of them in consideration to see where I should head the story in**

**Next chapter the Lucas ball. I'm so excited about it since I get to join that scene with other scenes**

**So excited!**

**Anyways please review and favorite and follow since that's the only way I know people are liking the story**

**Like always you will get virtual food. This time virtual pizza!**

**Oh by the way special thanks to my beta julianabr! Because of her you guys can read peacefully without having to get headaches!**

**So shes technically a superhero…..**

**my bets are in batman...but she could also be green lantern...idk**


	7. Boston Accent And Green Eyes

**ANSWERING TEAM PIZZA!**

**the question everyone asked was about Darcy being a big OCD guy with numbers. **

**well I read somewhere (I don't remember where) it said that the smartest people have the highest possibility of having OCD.**

**so Darcy is super smart so he looks like he would have OCD**

**OK so I updated so late because I read this chapter after my beta sent it to me again edited and I was mad with myself since I didn't do a good job writing this chapter I was not contempt with it so I added some things sent it to my beta, but I was being left with so many reviews that I didn't keep my promise of updating so here is the next chapter...**

**be warned that it might have misspelled words because I was rude and didn't give my beta a chance to edit my new updated version because I felt bad that I hadn't updated.**

**so be warned people who love things written correctly...**

**sorry about that...**

**oh and also WARNING WARNING WARNING LITERRALY PEOPLE READ THIS WARNING! remember when I asked if I could add another scene to this scene?**

**well...**

**you asked for it so don't get mad at me when you don't like the scene I added...**

**so yeahhhhh...**

**sorry...**

* * *

><p>"MOOOOMMMMMM!" Olive yells from the living room, "I CAN'T FIND MY SHOE!"<p>

It's seven in the morning the first time in weeks where I can just stay in and sleep for a while. And what do I do? I wake up early to cook breakfast for the triplets. It's the first time in months where I can be there to send them off to school with a good start, because usually I'm already at work.

This morning is actually going quite well, because last time I packed them up for school there was crying and yelling and throw-up on the carpet. Olive's missing shoe is nothing.

"Don't yell! I can hear perfectly fine!" I holler to Olivia.

Many people say that they love getting their kids ready to go to school. They say it's sort of like bonding time for them.

They are totally lying.

It's only great if you like arguments and pleading with sleepy children at 7 in the morning.

"Mom, sign these papers," David says, throwing some papers at me while I'm cooking the eggs.

Last night I couldn't sleep, just thinking about William and our encounter. I thought about how he would feel finding out that he has three children. I know he would hate it. He doesn't seem like the type to like children. And I'm sure he would want to take them away from me, seeing as he thinks I'm a horrible mother, so they can be raised by nannies or whoever he's dating at the time.

Today I woke up determined to be the best mother ever. William thinks I'm a horrible mother? Well, I'll show him that I am raising his kids to be the best they can be.

Not that what he said yesterday bothered me.

Because it didn't.

Really.

That is why I am up early and cooking them breakfast. After all, breakfast is the most important meal of the day. (Mothers know these kinds of things.)

"David, you had all of yesterday to give me these papers and you're giving them to me now?" I say n complete exasperation. "Your brother and sister gave me their papers yesterday to sign."

"Ugh! See what you've done, nerds! You've set a high standard that I now have to live up to," he yells to make sure they can hear him from wherever they are.

This is normal for David; he's always loosing stuff or forgetting to turn things in time. Just two days ago he made me stop work and drive all the way to his school just so I could drop off a project he had forgotten at the house.

He's messy disorganized and overall a big mess.

While his sister and brother are organized, punctual, and perfectionist to a fault.

I grab a pen to sign, but I pause once I start reading what he's given me. "You got a 70 in English?" I ask him with a raised eyebrow.

He just shrugs.

This is not normal for him. He's a very smart boy so getting a 70 in a class where he's supposed to excel in is a warning bell that something is off.

"Mom, have you seen my shoe?" Olive asks on coming into the kitchen.

David has already started lobbing an orange toward her when he says, "Hey, Olive, catch!" Olive covers her face with her hands instead of trying to catch it, making the orange fly over her shoulder and knocking down the flowerpot behind her.

I don't have time to lecture him right now so I just give David a stern look. "Go clean it, David."

"Eeew! I don't want that!" James says, coming to stand behind me to watch me cook.

"This isn't a restaurant, James, so you're going to eat what I give you."

"Mom, you haven't finished signing all my papers," David whines. "The teacher will get mad at me, and she already hates me," he pouts.

I look at him, I want to tell him that not turning his papers in time won't make the teacher hate him more then she already does. She's hated him ever since the first day he came in and proceeded to tell her she smelled like Boloney….

…in front of the whole class.

Instead of reminding him of this incident I look behind him where the broken flower pot is in the floor "Have you cleaned the mess up yet?" I ask him.

"Mom?" Olive says, tugging on my sleeve to get my attention, "have you seen my shoe?"

"I'll eat at school," James says, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I think it would be better if you cleaned it up, since I might cut myself with the glass," David answers, staring at me with those big green eyes and giving me the most innocent face he can.

"Mom, my shoe?"

The house is chaos in the mornings.

Utter chaos.

My mind gets crowded with all of their voices coming at me at once. When all three of them start talking to me at the same time, my head starts to pound. I've told them time and time again not to talk over each other.

But do they listen?

Absolutely not.

I wonder how it would be if I had just had one instead of three. That would have left me just with James. I look at him, how would it be just having him as my only child?

Right now he's standing with his arms across his chest frowning at me and looking between his siblings who are trying to get my attention.

It would be peaceful just having him around. But it would defiantly not be entertaining like it is having David and Olivia.

How I wish for a calm day without no noise.

Just one day that's all I'm asking for.

I'll even accept half a day.

Gosh how things are going I'll be contempt with an hour!

I pinch my nose trying to gather patience and drown out all the voices going around me. I start to smile when I'm finally able to do it.

But of course that's when all hell breaks loose and all three of them start pushing each other

"Ok, everyone! OUT!" I yell. "Leave the kitchen, there are too many people here," I say pushing them out of the kitchen. "No, Olivia, I haven't seen your shoe. Check your room." I look at James and say, "You will eat what I give you." I turn to David and inform him, "No, I won't sign your papers. You should have given me them yesterday. Maybe this will teach you to remember."

He has to learn to be responsible and turn things in time.

"Ok, mom, but when they call you to have a parent-teacher meeting and you have to stop work to go, I promise I will be standing beside you telling you this could all have been avoided if you had simply signed my papers," he says with a smirk.

I glare at him.

Oh, this kid is good.

I wonder where his devious mind comes from.

"Fine!" I say, snatching the papers away from him and signing. "And, James, we leave in ten minutes! Why in the world are you not ready?"

"I'm not eating that," James points at the plate. "You know eggs make me nauseous," he says simply, crossing his arms in his chest.

Great.

Not only do I get to deal with David and his devious mind, but it's going to be one of those days where James looks down on everything I do for him.

Just great.

"You're eating what I give you and that's final. This is not a discussion. I did not wake up early just so you could despise the food I cook you."

He shakes his head and stands his ground.

This is all you William. I'm not a stubborn person nor am I devious.

Really.

I'm not.

I'm always impeccably organized, as well. No disorganization in my house. No, siree!

This must all be from William's side of the family.

Because this is defiantly not from my side.

One look from my mom and all five of her daughters knew to obey.

"Mommmm, something's burning!" David yells from the kitchen.

Crap, the eggs.

I run into the kitchen but it's too late, the eggs are burned. I quickly throw the pan in the sink and turn off the stove.

Perfect. Just perfect.

The one thing I want to do right for my children and I absolutely screw it up. Maybe I am a horrible mother. Maybe William is right. I can just see the superior look spreading across his face, if he were here.

I can even imagine him with his English accent telling me how I'm a failure of a mother and that I don't deserve to be raising his kids.

I bend over in the counter, my hands grabbing the edge tightly.

_Patience_, I tell myself. _Have patience with them and just do what you need to do._

Eyeing me carefully, James blurts out, "You know what? I'm just going to go change now," as he quickly leaves the kitchen.

"I… uhh… have to go clean something," David whispers as he follows his brother.

A lone tear falls from my eye, which I quickly wipe away.

I have no idea why I'm crying. I think I've only managed to handle the pressure of working and taking care of my three kids, because I loved them and I had no other choice. Though my sisters helped where they could, ultimately it all rested on me.

But seeing William again just brought me to my limit. Seeing the father of my children just broke me.

_Snap out of it, Lizzy! Don't waste your tears on him. He doesn't even remember you, let alone think of you, so don't bother thinking about him._

I quickly distract myself by setting up cereal and milk on the table. For _my _children.

As I finish doing this, David and James quickly come and sit and start serving themselves cereal.

"Where's your sister?" I ask them.

"Looking for her shoe," David says with his mouth full.

"You're disgusting!" James tells him with a disgusted look on his face.

This makes David open his mouth even bigger, showing off all the munched up cereal in his mouth. "Raaawwwwrrr!" he says, acting like zombie as he slowly approaches James.

James looks at me, his face telling me he is not amused by David's childish behavior and imploring me to stop him.

I want to laugh at this. I love seeing James and David interact. They are so completely different, total opposites. While David is amusing and childish James is quite and too mature for his age.

I sometimes look at James and know that if William were here that would be the same way he would react.

I don't want to stop David because I actually find it funny, and it helped me break out of my gloom. But I put on my best 'mommy face' and said, "David, stop it, and don't talk with your mouth full."

I sit down beside them and serve myself some cereal "Can one of you tell your sister to come eat?" I ask them

"OLIVVVEEEE! GET YOUR UGLY FACE DOWN HERE!" David yells at the top of his lungs.

I look at him. "I didn't need you to yell at her. I could have done that. I asked for you to go tell her to eat."

He just laughs and smiles at me causing me to laugh with him.

Sometimes I need this, I need the laughter, I know I should be lecturing him but right now I need all of this to help me forget about William.

Or better yet Darcy since for me William and Darcy are two completely different people. William is the socially awkward man who I spent a week with in England-the man who I trusted and gave myself to.

Darcy is the jerk who left me; the prideful jerk who believes me to be a gold digger slut.

Darcy is the guy who I met yesterday.

William is the father of my children.

There two completely different people

Or maybe William was always Darcy but I never noticed it. Or better yet I never wanted to see it.

I wonder how William would react if he saw this every morning. The yelling, bickering, and the rush of getting them to school on time; never mind laughing with David about some of his antics, instead of lecturing about proper behavior. I think it would drive him crazy. William doesn't hit me like the type to handle havoc very well, especially not the William from the restaurant yesterday.

As I'm thinking of all this Olive comes running into the dining room in a white dress with a denim jacket and scarf. Her wavy black hair flying all over her face, sending my thoughts in an entirely new direction.

When I was her age, I could not stand wearing dresses. I used to never think about my clothing. I was a complete tomboy, playing every sport imaginable. I used to climb every tree I could find. My mother hated this since my little adventures were never gentle on the clothing that I did wear. I thought Olive would be more like me, especially being raised with two boys; but, nope, Olivia was a girlie girl. It almost seemed as if having two brothers made her want to be even girlier, if that's possible. I can't even get her into a pair of jeans.

Just dresses. And scarves. She just loves scarves.

I still hate dresses, so that hasn't changed.

"I was thinking maybe we could head over there immediately after you drop James and David off at school. I don't know how full it will be and I want to be one of the first ones," she says excitedly sitting beside David who is still bothering his brother.

"Go where?" I ask giving her a confused look.

"To the book store," she informs me as she grabs a bowl of cereal.

"You have school today, Olive." I respond to her knowing that if olive could she would live in a bookstore so it's no surprise she's trying to miss school to go buy a book.

I often think that if she ever skips school when she's older I would easily find her since she would be in a library or bookstore.

"Mom, you told me if I got a 100 in my science class I could go to the book signing today!" she says her eyes begging me. "You promised! And I love this author plus it's the last book in the series and I really, really want it." She implores me, "You even got the office to give you half the day off so you could take me!"

David's head snaps up from his cereal bowl to say, "What? You're missing school today?" He looks at me (with the eyes again), "I love the series, too! I want to go too!"

I search my memory for anything I might have promised, and realized she was right: I did promise her the outing.

"Ok, fine. Let's go," I tell her as I stand up. "Is everyone finished because were late?"

"What about me, mom? I want to go too!" David whines.

"David, everyone knows you don't know how to read," James tells him seriously.

"Well, look at that! Mr. Robot was trying to crack a joke!" David says, teasing him.

"Ok, everyone out," I tell them as I open the door of the apartment. All three chattering kids go running out the door and down the hall.

The ride to school was full of fights and yelling, mostly from James and David who could not stop bothering each other. Thank God, I finally pull into the parking lot of Walter And Miriam's School For The Gifted.

All three of them got accepted to the school because they are all highly intelligent in their own unique way. Even David, who acts like a total idiot a lot of the time, is a small genius. I was smart in school (I was actually valedictorian), but I was never this smart.

They are scary smart.

After I dropped her brothers off, Olivia notices we are not headed to the book signing and asks, "Where are we going?"

"I have to talk to your Aunt Jane for a quick minute," I tell her, as I keep my eyes in the road. She doesn't say anything for a while as we drive, which is normal for her. She only really talks when her brothers are around. Same thing with James. Separately, they can all be quiet angels, even David. He can be talkative, but less so than when he's with his siblings.

It's when they're all together that trouble brews.

"What are you drawing?" I ask her, even though I know she won't answer my question. I glance at her in the rearview mirror and I see her concentrating hard on her sketching; her black hair covering her icy blue eyes from my gaze. She's been carrying that sketchbook since I got it for her three years ago.

"I'll show it to you when I finish, I promise" she mumbles, her gaze never leaving the page.

She looks so much like her father in this moment it's scary.

I realize I am going to have to lie when I see Jane today. I know that some day soon she's going to meet William, because he's friends with Charles. One glance at William's eyes and hair, and she will know he's the triplets' father.

I hate lying. And it pains me even more to know that it's Jane I'm going to be lying to.

* * *

><p>"This better be good, mama bear," Charlotte murmurs as she sits in the couch.<p>

I just got to Jane's house. I woke up all three of them – Charlotte, Mary, and Jane. They had all stayed over at Jane's apartment, since they came back from the hospital together an hour ago.

Charlotte's mad because I woke her up after they worked all night.

I can't believe my luck I was going to tell all three of them separately the story but now that I'm here I can tell all of them together. That would be better since I won't have to remember what lies I told to whom.

"Princess, why don't you go to your Aunt Jane's room and watch some TV?" I tell Olive, who is sitting beside me still drawing in her sketchbook. She gives me a weary look, but nods and heads to the other room.

"Ok, this is bad since you just sent her away, which means you don't want her to hear," Charlotte whispers. "Come on, spill it. This better be good gossip since I'm losing precious beauty sleep."

I sigh, not knowing where to start spinning my tale. "I think it's time for me to tell you all the truth," I say, looking down at my hands so they don't see my guilty face.

"Truth about what, Lizzy?" Jane asks with a concerned look on her pretty face.

"About everything," I whisper.

I had never told them about how I met William, and they've never nagged me about it. All they knew was that I slept with a guy when I was in England, and they've always respected my privacy.

So now I'm going to tell them everything. Everything, but with a few little embellishments.

I slowly start telling them about William. I try to stick as close to the truth as possible, the lies getting easier the further I go.

"So, William was hot?" Charlotte asks, with a grin in her face. "No, you don't need to tell me, I can tell by how good looking the kids are."

I get nervous when I get to the point where the lie starts.

"Yes, he was very good looking," I say thinking about William. "He looked like David, exactly like David, even acted like him."

"He looked like David?" Mary finally asks. "I always imagined him with darker coloring more like James or Olive."

"Nope," I answer. "The shape of his mouth and nose… the eyes… all just like David."

All three of them look confused. I hope I never slipped and told them William really did look like the other two. In any case, I hope my lie will at least throw Jane off for a little while, and she won't realize he's the father when she meets him.

"Well David is a cute kid also," Jane says, with a smile on her face. "So, William was from London, I'm guessing?"

"No, he was just visiting England." I cringe a little when I tell them this huge lie, I quickly look down hiding my guilty face.

This lie gets them even more confused. "I always thought he was English since you always talk about how much you hate the English," Jane says, completely perplexed.

"English people just remind me of England, that's why I don't like them," I say simply. _I have to keep the lie simple,_ I tell myself.

"So, where was he from?" Mary asks.

I think for a minute. "Um… He was an American."

"Do you know what part of America? Did he have an accent?" she asks.

Great Lizzie you had to say America, why couldn't you say Australia or I don't know Ireland? You just had to say United States.

"He had a Boston accent," I blurt out, worried that it's getting too complicated.

Damn I hope they never meet a black hair green eyed Boston man. And if they do my condolences to that poor man.

"So, William has black hair, green eyes, and is super good looking, with an awesome sense of humor and a Boston accent. Did I leave something out?" Charlotte says, looking at me.

I shake my head.

This is lie is getting out of hand. Seeing their faces scrunched up in anger and confusion is really bothering my conscious who is yelling at me to tell them the truth.

I'm one minute away from blurting out the truth.

No lizzie remember why you're doing this, one day they will meet William, and Jane especially is a horrible actress, I would have a less chance of William knowing he's a father by putting a billboard next to his house then with Jane and her horrible acting skills knowing who the father of the triplets is.

"Good. Now we can go to the Police, get a sketch artist to draw him and put out a warrant for unpaid child support," Charlotte states.

I roll my eyes at her. Typical Charlotte.

"I really have to go" I say standing up from my chair and picking up my purse "I only came to tell Jane the story, because I've had it on my mind lately." I look down at my phone "I'm late I promised Olive I would take her to the book store," I say walking towards Jane's room to call olive but I stop remembering something "By the way, Mary, do you think you can babysit them tonight?"

She shakes her head no. "I have to go to the fundraiser too tonight. It's going to help fund a piece of equipment for the hospital that I need for my work. So, I have to be there to talk it up to the donors. But don't worry, Jane asked mom about it and she's fine watching them for the night."

I look at Jane in shock, but she pleads with her eyes for me to accept.

David, James, and Olive in the same house with my mother; unsupervised. She's a mature adult, right? How bad can it get?

* * *

><p>"See! I told you, mom, it would be crowded," Olive says, as we try to swim through all the people trying to find seats.<p>

Olive was complaining the whole way here that we would be late and that the whole book store would be crowded. I told her not to worry that it wouldn't.

I was so wrong.

The store is packed with lots of kids with parents and a bunch of teens waiting for the book signing. We finally find a spot after several minutes of searching, but it's only one seat.

"You take it," I tell her motioning to the chair. "I'll go roam around see what I can find, but stay here, Ok? And call me when they start the book signing." She nods her head as I leave.

I start browsing through the aisles of books.

Aisles and aisles of books, and all for my enjoyment.

I love to read. I mean I really love it. I think that's where Olive inherited her passion for reading.

To me there is nothing better than the feeling of sitting down after a long day of work with a cup of hot chocolate and a good book.

And nothing I mean _nothing_ beats the smell of a new book.

I stop in the classical section and grab a random book, reading the summary in the back.

"I would recommend the newer revised version. It includes footnotes," I hear a man's voice behind me say; say in a Boston accent to be precise. I didn't realize anyone was there, so I get startled and drop the book. I turn around, my hand over my heart.

The man starts laughing, "I get that reaction from a lot of women, but it's not usually because they're scared for their lives," he chuckles.

I take a good look at the guy. He's tall, around my age I'd guess. His green eyes are full of humor, with little wrinkles in the corners when he smiles. Clearly caused by years of laughter.

And the only thing going through my mind when I see him is that he's completely different from William

Reason number one he's smiling.

Reason number two William is not a flirt.

And Reason number three (the biggest reason and the one I hate the most) Darcy is not nice.

Wow Lizzy your thinking of William again.

Or better yet Darcy.

Gosh I've been thinking about him so much lately that it seems as if I'm obsessed with him.

I shiver at the thought of me being obsessed with Darcy.

Which I'm not.

I've just had him in my mind lately since I just saw him again after 10 years of abandonment.

I pick up the book I dropped and as I'm standing up I look up and the man with the Emerald green eyes is still standing there. What is he waiting on?

Oh yeah an Answer.

"You scared me," I reply.

"Yeah, I noticed," he says. "What? Are you feeling guilty about something?" he asks, his eyes twinkling with humor. I don't respond and I just turn around continuing what I was doing before he interrupted me. I hope he gets the hint that I don't want to talk with him. I'm not interested.

Maybe my mother is right and I am into the tall dark mysterious kind of guys.

It would explain how I completely felt safe with William when I met him. It wasn't because of his personality.

No because he has a horrible personality. Well Darcy has a horrible personality, William is fine.

No I felt safe with him because I was attracted to him.

Or at least I hope it was his appearance because if it was his personality then I'm totally screwed.

"Are you here for the book signing?" the green eyed man asks, still not getting the hint that I want to be left alone.

"If I answer, will you go away?" I say, exasperated.

Poor guy he's hitting on the wrong woman. He's wasting his time on me.

I hear him chuckle, "Perhaps. I don't know, I only promise something if I can always keep it. So, no, I can't promise you."

I know these types of men. He's good looking (I'm not blind, I'm just not interested), and he looks as if he's going to continue to flirt with me, so I answer with my go-to method for the shedding of unwanted flirts.

"I'm actually here with my daughter. She's a big fan of the book series," I say, expecting him to run away, like they all do when I mention my children.

If it's something single men are scared of its single mothers because that would require commitment of there part to that woman.

"Oh, that's nice. I was just there some minutes ago, but I must have missed her. I would have remembered a miniature version of your beautiful face," he says, winking at me.

Ok so that didn't scare him.

He is determined, I'll give him that. "Why are you flirting with me?" I question. "I could be married."

If the Mother Card didn't work then I'll have to use the second option of ridding myself of flirts.

Acting married.

"You don't have a ring," he says, leaning into the wall.

"I could be having the ring fixed," I say quickly.

"By using the words, 'I could be' I now know for sure you're not married. A married woman would just come out and say she's married."

I scrunch my face, knowing very well he's right. "I still think that's a horrible pick up line."

"What line?"

I roll my eyes as I go back to searching the shelf for books.

He starts laughing again, something I've noticed he does a lot. "Honey, if you thought that was a pickup line, then you've been meeting some real losers."

"I can't argue with you there," I say, remembering how completely awkward William was when he wanted to flirt with me; not to mention all the blind dates Charlotte and my sisters have sent me on.

"If you want to hear a pick up line, I will give you the best pickup line you've ever heard." I look up expectantly. He clears his throat. "I thought happiness started with an 'H'. Why does mine start with 'U'?" he says, coming to stand closer to me.

"That was really bad," I tell him, smiling at his corny line.

He chuckles, "Yeah, you're right, that was really bad. Let me try another one," he says, trying to control his laughter. "If I were a stop light, I'd turn red every time you passed by, just so I could stare at you a bit longer."

I laugh and shake my head at the utter cheesiness.

"Do you have a Band-Aid? Because I just scraped my knee falling for you," he continues.

I laugh as I roll my eyes. "That one is more bad then the last one"

He smiles as he steps closer to me "You must be a hell of a thief because you stole my heart from across the room." He says dramatically, we're both laughing uncontrollably by this point. "Ok, Ok… This is a good one," he says trying to keep a straight face. "My love for you is like diarrhea, I just can't hold it in."

We look at each other and both of us burst out laughing. I just couldn't contain it any more. I'm bent over holding my sides, thankful that there's a lot of noise in the store to drown out our cackling.

"Those are really terrible pickup lines. All of them," I finally say when I'm able to control myself.

"Yeah, but they made you laugh."

"True. Do you work here?" I ask him. Because a man like him could not be in a bookstore just to 'browse', no he's either here with his daughter or son which is not possible seeing as he has the 'forever a bachelore' vibe coming out of him

Which leaves me with the second reason.

He's being paid to be here.

He acts hurt by what I said, "You think a person like me would not be in a bookstore willingly? I'm hurt, princess."

I roll my eyes. "So, are you here working?" I ask him again.

"Yeah, I am" he pauses and looks at me with those big green eyes "but I do read."

"Uh huh… I believe you," I say dripping with sarcasm.

"I do read… and a lot. How do you think I know that the newer version has footnotes?"

"Because that's your job to know?"

He looks at me and a smile starts playing in his face. "Touché, princess, touché. I like you, princess, you're feisty."

I slap my hand in my forehead and groan, "Not again. For some reason guys always fall for me," I say dramatically, "and this is the part where I have to tell them that I don't have time for this, I have 3 kids to take care of, and that's when they usually run away."

He laughs again. He has a nice laugh.

"And this is the part where you get embarrassed, princess, because I'm just trying to make friends," he responds.

I groan again. "Yep, I'm embarrassed," I say playfully. _Maybe he would make a good friend,_ I think to myself.

He looks like he would be fun to hang around with.

"What's your name?" I ask him.

"What about this, princess," he says, "we don't exchange names and leave it like this. When you tell this story to your friends, you can tell them you met a tall, dark, handsome, and mysterious guy who you are instantly are attracted to moment you catch his eyes from the other side of the room. You look at him and he looks at you. He smiles and you roll your beautiful brown eyes. He takes that as his cue to come over and say hello. But you, of course, act like you're bored with the conversation, even though you're hyperventilating inside. He flirts with you, and you are really hitting it off. But then fate plays a nasty game and unfortunate events separate you, leaving without knowing his name."

He comes closer to me as he whispers into my ear, "Your book club members will be fainting just hearing that story." He grins. "They'll tell you that if you ever meet your handsome stranger again, you'll know that it's destiny," he says dramatically. "How about it, princess? Next time we see each other I'll give you my name. It'll be destiny."

I stare at him. "You're pretty cocky, you know that?"

He shrugs, "It's a flaw. So, how about it, princess?"

"Sure, why not? Great story, by the way, you must read after all."

I hear a roar of voices coming from where I left Olive followed by light clapping. I guess the author has just arrived.

"Well, I have to go check on my daughter, so I guess this is till next time, my dark and handsome stranger," I tell him, curtsying dramatically.

"Till destiny joins us again, fair princess," he says, with a bow and a laugh.

Well, Lizzy, it looks like your day might be getting better.

* * *

><p>"Please, mom, don't leave me with these people," James begs me as he watches his siblings walk into my parents' house.<p>

"I'll be back in 3 hours, James. I promise."

"What do I do while I wait for you?" he asks with panic in his voice.

"Talk to them… or better yet, don't talk to them," I say quickly after I think of last time he spoke with my parents. "Hang out with David or Olive, or do your homework," I say, ruffling his dark hair.

He frowns at me. He hates when I touch his hair. He doesn't like it messy.

He looks down at his phone, and sets an alarm for three hours. "Three hours, mom. You promise?"

I try not to laugh at his serious face. "I promise, James. When have I ever broken a promise?" I ask him.

James is in love with punctuality so I know if I promise him three hours I better keep it.

"Never," he whispers.

"And remember, James –"

He cuts me off saying, "Yeah, yeah, I remember, 'It will always be us three and you against the world.'"

I smile, "I will never leave you, James, I love you and David and Olive too much. It will always be us four together. I promise."

Ever since they were little I've told them this; that it will always be the four of us together against the world

And I intend to keep that promise.

Nothing can make me break that promise. I love my children too much.

"Three hours mom…" he repeats as he gets out of the car.

"Three hours, James, I promise."

I watch as he enters the house, his steps calculated. I can tell he's tense by the way his shoulders are placed. He looks back at me, his black shirt making his blue eyes pop more. He looks so much like William right now with that serious face.

As much as I try to hate William, I know I never really will. He gave me the most beloved people in my life.

Three little people to be exact.

With the kids taken care of, I finally get to the fundraiser.

The hospital has gone all out this year, renting a beautiful ballroom, I feel out of place in this fundraiser that is full of people with beautiful gowns and dresses. I suddenly feel very exposed when I walk in and a majority of the men start staring at me. I tug on my white, clingy dress and try to make it look not so short.

Damn Charlotte made me wear this dress tonight. I told her it made me feel like a hooker, but she laughed and asked me when I'd ever seen a hooker wearing this dress. "You have an awesome back, and you have to show it off." She said

So that's why I'm here, wearing this dress, and wishing it covered a bit more.

"Stop tugging!" Charlotte comes up from behind me, slapping my hand away.

"It's sticking to my body," I tell her.

"Good. It's supposed to do that, Lizzy," she responds.

"Why would they do that? If I wanted a dress to fit that tightly to my body, I would have ordered a smaller size," I whisper, trying not to get more attention on myself than I already have.

"You clearly need to go out more," she tells me sweetly. "Look, honey, you obviously look good, since you got the attention of most of the men here," she says, pointing to some men off to the side gawking me.

"That's because Jane's not here yet," I tell her honestly, knowing very well once Jane walks through that door there's no hope for the rest of us, no matter how pretty we look dressed up.

"Jane's not what?" Jane says, walking up to us. And, of course, she has to look perfect; she's wearing a black strapless dress that comes up to her mid-thigh, her blond hair flowing in waves across her back. She looks like she just stepped off the runway.

"What the fuck?! Is a doctor supposed to look like that?"

"I don't know, but she gives me image issues," I respond to Charlotte.

"Wow, you just annihilated all the competition, Jane," Charlotte tells her.

"We're in competition? For what?" Jane asks completely, confused by what we're saying.

"Why do we hang out with her, again?" Charlotte asks me.

"Because she's my sister and a nice person, and impossible to hate" I respond stopping a waiter passing by our little group. At least this guy has the decency has not to gawk at Jane while he stops so I can get the champagne glass from his tray.

I smile as I take a sip from the champagne.

It's been to long since I've had alcohol.

"It would be easier to hate her and just be envious of her, like the rest of the woman here, but noooooo! Of course Jane has to be nicer then 'Saint Theresa', " Charlotte tells me, as we look around the room. Indeed, all the women's eyes are throwing daggers over Jane's way.

Which honestly I don't get why they would be mad at Jane, they should be mad at their husbands who are starring.

"You know, I can hear you guys," Jane says with her sweet voice.

"Yeah, we know," I respond to Jane.

"Also, I think the store took all your money but gave you only half a dress," Charlotte tells Jane while looking pointedly at her exposed legs.

This makes Jane look down at her dress that comes to her mid-thigh. She turns to me looking worried, "Is it really too short, Lizzy?"

"No, Jane, its fine. You're perfect," I tell her, stopping her from running back to her apartment and changing. "Charlotte is just jealous that she has short pudgy legs the size of T-Rex hands, while you have legs the length of an airstrip."

"I think your confusing people's stretch marks," Charlotte tells me teasingly, her eyes going down to my stomach where the stretch marks are located under my dress.

I gasp, "I gave birth to triplets! At least I have an excuse! What's your excuse for having short legs?"

Charlotte shrugs, "Bad genetics?" I look at her and we both burst out laughing.

"Come on, Lizzy, let's go," Charlotte says taking our hands and pulling us to the dance floor. "Let's get you to forget all those baby bottles and diapers."

"My children are ten, Charlotte. Ten years old, not ten days."

"Yeah, let's not talk about that too loudly. That scares the men away, and we need to get you laid," Charlotte says with a wide grin.

"Charlotte!" Jane exclaims, her cheeks turning red from embarrassment. "We don't talk about those things in public," Jane says, looking all over the dance floor which is packed to see if anyone heard Charlotte and her 'embarrassing' conversation.

"Well, Char, I don't need a man right now. And in any case, I'm not going to hide my children just to get a man's approval."

"Honey, you definitely need a man in your life," she says, putting her hand on my shoulder and looking at me with pity.

This has been a discussion that has been happening throughout 10 years. Charlotte thinks that I need a guy which I disagree in fervently. I won't give my children a father who is not there real dad.

Even though I don't want their real father to be there dad either.

It's complicated.

The thing is that I don't want to make my children live with a random guy just because I like him. And what if he starts mistreating them?

Even though there are great step fathers out there.

But still I don't want to risk it.

"I already have two," I respond. "I actually promised one of them that I would only be here for three hours, so come on, we came here to dance!" I tell both of them as I grab their hands and steer them to the middle of the dance floor trying to forget my worries and problems.

And overall trying to forget William.

We maneuver ourselves through the crowded dance floor trying to get to the middle.

The good thing is that there's a DJ so I can dance all night. We finally get to the middle and I start swaying my body to the rhythm of the music, holding my glass of champagne. If there is something I just love, it's dancing.

Dancing is my passion.

Unfortunately, none of my children showed any interest, as much as I begged them to learn how to dance.

"Hey, look! It's Mary," Charlotte tells us, nodding toward the entrance.

I try to look through the people dancing and after some minutes I finally spot her. She looks bored, like if just being here surrounded by people exhausts her. But she looks good…in a gothic kind of way. Mary being Mary is wearing a black dress (of course), with black stockings; her black hair short to her chin and the tips of her hair dyed purple. She looks around with a frown on her face. Knowing her, she's already counting down the seconds until she can leave the place.

"Sometimes I worry about her," Charlotte murmurs.

We all nod in agreement.

"I'm going to go check on her," I tell both of them.

Mary doesn't need supervision, she's a big girl. But sometimes whenever she's surrounded by people we have to check up on her and make sure she's not arguing with someone about present society or animal cruelty.

It's more about protecting her from utter embarrassment.

Jane nods. "That's a good idea. I'm going to go try to find Charles, he told me he was coming," she says as she tries to see behind me to find Charles.

My eyes go wide at this.

"What? Charles is coming here?" I ask Jane, almost spitting out the champagne I was drinking.

"Yeah," she responds lightly, not noticing how I'm glued in place from shock.

Charles is here, which means Darcy will be here, which means I get to see him, which means Jane, Charlotte and Mary will see him, too.

Oh, no. This is not good.

Not good at all.

"You should be careful with Charles, you still don't know him that well. If 'The Walking Dead' has taught me anything, it's that you can't trust anyone," I say trying to distract Jane from searching everywhere for her ginger prince charming.

This is not the time or the place for Jane to meet Darcy.

Nope, no, not going to happen.

"Has 'Dexter' taught you nothing, Jane?" I continue, "Serial killers always hide behind those 'nice boy' facades. Charles could be a Dexter!" I pause, and mumble, "… but then again, if Charles was a Dexter, we would probably all be dead by now, being fed to the fishes… but let's not think about that…"

Jane just stares at me for a minute. "A psychologist would have a field day with you, Lizzie – like a child in a candy store, not knowing which of your many mental issues to attack first."

Charlotte laughs, her drink sputtering out her mouth, her spit landing everywhere.

"Oh, shut up," I say laughing, and nudging Jane with my shoulder. "OK, go look for your redheaded prince charming while I go talk to Mary." I finally say

"Is there a Disney prince with red hair?" I hear Charlotte ask as I walk away from them, desperately trying to control my breathing.

Charles is coming, Charles is coming, Charles is coming.

The only thing running through my mind is that Charles is coming. And with Charles comes William.

Oh, God. William is coming, William is coming. William. Is. Coming.

Now I only have to make sure Mary isn't killing anyone with her words and then afterwards I look for Charles ask for Darcy and then distract Darcy from ever seeing Jane tonight…or Charlotte…or Mary.

Simple Lizzie, like stealing a candy from a child.

Well except if that child is David then his devious mind would make it extremely difficult. Or if its James or Olivia they would probably make some completely elaborate plan to keep the candy safe; Probably surrounding it with tiny robots or unsolvable math patterns.

Oh god and there Darcy's children. If his offspring are that difficult to trick I can't imagine how hard he will be.

Oh god he's going to find out.

My heart races, thinking I will see him tonight.

I start pulling on my dress trying to get it to get it to cover more, feeling even more self-conscious about my bare back and legs. "I hate dresses," I mumble beneath my breath.

I find Mary sitting on a barstool, nursing a drink. "This sucks," she says as I sit beside her.

"It's not that bad," I tell her honestly looking around at the laughing people. Everyone looks like there having fun.

"It's the first party you've been to in a long time, Lizzy. You'd be happy with anything, so I don't think your judgment counts."

"True, true." I tell her even though I'm sure Mary is the only one not having fun "Cool hairstyle by the way," I tell her, touching the purple in the tips of her hair. "What did mom say about it?"

She snorts.

She doesn't need to tell me any more – of course mom hated it.

My mother thinks her goal in life is to marry off her five daughters. And she's had it against Mary and me forever, ever since we started letting her know we weren't really interested in marriage. And the fact that we're the least attractive of the five sisters doesn't help, because it's not like it might happen without her help anyway.

Mary isn't ugly. She's actually quite pretty. But living among beautiful, gorgeous sisters like Jane, Kitty, and Lydia has really overshadowed her beauty.

I think that's why she dresses the way she does. She's just looking for something distinctive that will draw people's attention, even though she says that attention is not what she wants at all.

I can just imagine the panic attack my mother had when she saw Mary's hair. It's bad enough for my mother that Mary dyes her hair black, but now with the purple as part of the package? I bet it gave her heart palpitations. I would have loved to have been there to see it. The joy it would have brought me.

She must think that now it will be impossible for Mary to find herself a husband.

"I'm going to go find Jane, want to come?" Mary asks me, hopping out of the barstool, her petite form as tall as I am sitting down in the chair.

Like I said, Mary had it tough growing up with tall, model-like sisters. She's the short one of the family only coming to 5'1", a great difference to Jane's 5'10".

"Nah, I'm fine. You go ahead. I'm going to stay here," I tell her, by now Jane must have found Charles. So now I'm just going to try to avoid when Jane sees William for the first time.

I watch Mary's petite form trying to manage to walk through the crowded room; tapping on people's shoulders and saying 'excuse me' all the time.

"Hello, princess! It looks like we meet again!" a man with a Boston accent says behind me.

I turn around, already knowing I will be met with green eyes glowing with humor.

Sure thing, right in front of me is the guy from the bookstore. He's rubbing his neck looking up at me with his green eyes and his mouth formed into a smile.

"I think it must be destiny," he says, laughing.

"I call it stalking," I answer turning my back to him.

He hops on the barstool next to me and smiles, "Hey, I think you owe me something."

"Elizabeth," I respond, extending my hand for him shake. "And you are…?"

* * *

><p><strong>SO people leave a comment saying who you think this mystery guy is<strong>

**btw also read my new story called A Wrong Wrinkle In Time.**

**oh and also sorry if this chapter had some bits that were misspelled. my beta has no fault about it. It was all me, because after she edited it I added some bits.**

** so sorry about it**

**thanks to my beta for helping me. she's the greatest beta ever! she's seriously super good! the wonderful JulianaBr!**

**btw I started this chapter this way to show a difference about how Elizabeth's day is to Darcy's**

**Darcy went to sleep in silence and Elizabeth woke up in chaos**

**again I apologize for the lateness I am a very insecure writer and I believe everything I write is horrible, so I had to add some bits to this chapter because like I said I'm very insecure about everything.**

**anyways if you want to know what dresses Jane and Elizabeth are wearing there right below here just take the word slash and add the actual slash. I always imagined Jane to look like a Victoria Secret Angel so I looked up Victoria Secret models who would be 29 going to 30 the age of Jane in this story who were blonde and Blue eyed and I ended up with Lindsey Ellingson. so she's my Jane in this story **

**and I imagine Mary to look like the actress Emily Browning. there's a picture where she has black hair cut to her chin with the tips of her hair dyed purple**

**she's also Mary's age in this story and also the same height.**

**I still don't have an Elizabeth or Darcy.**

**anyways leave in the comments who you believe the mystery guy is.**

**as always there's free virtual food for those who do. its Enchiladas this time**

**JANE:**

.com (slash)

**ELIZABETH:**

.com (slash)shop/dresses/lurellys-backless-bow-dress/


	8. Popular Jock Equals William

**A/N: I Know I know I haven't updated in forever, I would love to say I'm innocent or give you guys a great excuse like my house was hit by a meteor or I was abducted by aliens. But truthfully my excuse is lame…I've been busy working studying exc exc….like right now I'm updating in my lunch break…**

**But sorry for the wait…**

**I know I know I'm an embarrassment to humanity…**

**Answering team pizza questions!**

**Omg you are so right! I was wondering if someone was going to ask me about that because while I was writing that scene all I could think was if I was them I would be yelling BS and asking her why she was telling me this stuff now (concerning the scene when Lizzy goes and tells her sisters and Charlotte who her baby daddy is the reviewer asked if Jane, Mary, and Charlotte really believed her) well dear reviewer your answer will be answered somewhat in this chapter but defiantly in the next.**

**Thank you all to all who reviewed you guys motivate me to keep on writing!**

**Special thanks to my Beta the great Julianabr!**

* * *

><p><strong>Okay so it's been a while since I updated so I'm going to refreshen (is that even a word? refreshen?) you guys memory about what has happened.<strong>

**So Lizzy slept with Darcy in England got pregnant with triplets, she thought Darcy abandoned her but he didn't he wrote her a letter she never got. Darcy is trying to forget her by going to a fundraiser which Lizzy is attending. Lizzy met this guy at the bookstore and she just saw him again at the fundraiser.**

**She also lied to her sisters about how the father of her triplets looked like….**

**I think that's about it….**

* * *

><p>When I was in high school, there was this guy in my economics class that every girl loved: Captain of the football team, school president, and overall funny guy. I also have to admit he was really, really hot. With blond hair that shined like gold and blue eyes that looked like the Caribbean Ocean – there was no choice but to find him attractive.<p>

Every girl wanted to date him and every guy wanted to be him.

There was only one problem.

He was a flirt and a player. That guy walked the hallways with a different girl every single day. I don't know why girls fell for him. I mean, I get it. The guy was hotter than a July day in the Texas desert. But what I don't understand is why would anyone want to be with someone who was just going to dump you the next day? Was it the adrenaline rush of being with a guy that good looking? Or did you just want the bragging rights of being with the guy everyone wants – even if it's only for a day?

You can always tell a flirt by how they carry themselves. It's in their eyes. It's in the way they smile and walk. It's in the confidence they project when they talk to a woman. You can see it in the way they seem so relaxed when with a woman they want; as if they were a predator in their native habitat.

The man sitting beside me reminds me of the guy from my economics class. The way he walks and talks with just the same ease and confidence. So sure of himself – I can see it in his eyes. He is oozing with the kind of confidence that only comes from being told you're beautiful every day since birth.

He's almost _over_-confident, but can you blame him? He was so amazingly handsome in his street clothes, never mind the custom fitted tux he's rocking right now. And the way he's tugging on his bowtie like he's not used to wearing them, is incontrovertibly adorable.

Even though there's no question about his attractiveness, like the guy from high school, he just doesn't do it for me. Unfortunately, I find William far more attractive. Tall, dark and handsome, William can wear clothes like nobody's business. His looks are sophisticated. He just reeks power . He's the type of man you would find leading large companies or running for office. The kind of man you look at from afar, know he is completely unattainable, and yet you cannot pull your eyes away from him.

Even so, when I met William, the thing I found most attractive about him was that he seemed completely oblivious about his looks. He had no clue how beautiful he was. It was as if he didn't know why people even bothered to look his way.

While the man in front of me is more handsome in a boy-next-door kind of way – the type of guy girls would fall head over heels for, the school jock, captain of a football team, the golden boy – he was nothing like William.

Or Darcy, for that matter.

"Richard Fitzwilliam, my fair lady," the man in question says, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I look at him as he bows exaggeratedly in front of me, then grinning as he jumps onto his barstool.

"You didn't by any chance play football in high school, did you? Or maybe you were the senior class president?" I blurt out, still a little lost in my high school memories and having no control over my mouth.

He laughs. "The school I went to wasn't very athletic. Matter of fact, I don't even know if we had a football team." He looks at his empty glass and then at the bartender, "Can I get a shot over here?"

"So, what did you do in school?"

He grins. "'What didn't I do in school' is the question, princess," he says, wiggling his eyebrows. "Going to a boarding school where every single one of us were heirs to some dynasty has tremendous benefits," he says, with a faraway smile on his face, caught for a moment in the memories of days gone by.

I think about what he just said as he takes the shot from the bartender and downs it. I look at him more carefully, and I realize that his confidence doesn't just come from his looks. He's the whole package: Looks AND money.

Everything now makes so much more sense. But what was a trust fund kid doing working in a bookstore?

"Fitzwilliam. I've heard of that name before… Don't tell me your family is part of the mob?" I ask teasingly.

"No, my father is an earl, actually, but he doesn't really care about his title. He much prefers to run his business here in the States."

Looks, money AND a title? My mother would just love this guy. The second she spotted him, she would hound him until he married at least one of her daughters. Fortunately (for him and me… and my sisters…), she's not here.

Or, I consider, maybe he's just feeding me one of his standard pick-up lines?

"If your family is British nobility, why do you have an American accent?" I ask suspiciously. Holding my phone under the bar, I attempt to surreptitiously Google his family's name.

"Because I am an American," he responds – a little bored, as if he hears this a lot. "I was born here, raised here. And I decided to stay here with my father, since his company is here."

Stupid slow internet. It's so speedy-fast when I'm looking up stupid stuff, like the latest cat photo meme. But when I need crucial details, the information super-highway is more like being stuck in your car during rush hour.

"So how come you were working in a bookstore if your parents have money?" I ask him. _Just a little more time for the page to load…_

"Who said I was working in a bookstore?" he asks, inspecting his empty shot glass and completely oblivious to the fact that I'm stalking him on the internet. "Does this glass look dirty to you?" He waves his glass in front of me. I shake my head.

"You said, when we met in the bookstore," I respond, thinking about our interaction on the day I was there with Olive.

"I said I was working, not that I was working there_._"

"You knew that's what I thought. You should have clarified, not let me think the wrong thing," I say, clearly a little annoyed with him.

He lifts his eyebrow at my tone. "You sound like my cousin – always correcting my speech. You should meet him – total nerd. You seem like the nerd-loving type," he says, inspecting me. "And, nah… I had a day off from work and my family asked me for a favor. They own a publishing company and one of our authors had a book signing in Manhattan. So… I came to babysit, and make sure that everything flowed easily."

_Yes! Wikipedia just finished loading! _

Whoa! They call it the 'Fitzwilliam Dynasty'. So cool. It appears as though the Fitzwilliams are nobility. Just as Richard is discussing his dirty shot glass with the bartender, I scroll through the history and make my way to the present generation. Apparently, the Fitzwilliams had three children: Catherine Fitzwilliam – the eldest, James Fitzwilliam – the middle child, and Ann Fitzwilliam – the youngest.

Richard said his dad's an earl, so I'm guessing his dad is 'James'. I quickly click and, sure enough, it says that he is indeed an earl, with three kids, Richard being the youngest.

Well, damn. Richard wasn't just giving me a line. He was telling the truth.

I quickly put my phone in my purse as Richard turns towards me.

"So what do you do?" I ask.

He chuckles, as if the answer to my question was obvious. "What? My Wikipedia page didn't mention it?"

My cheeks turn red from embarrassment at being caught stalking. But I quickly get over it – nothing is too embarrassing if you know how to handle it.

"Actually, no, that wasn't in the biography. You should get that checked," I reply, trying to play it cool, like he didn't really catch me.

He glances over at me with an adorable grin. "FBI Special Agent in Charge. Criminals, narcotics, blah blah blah department," he says simply, noticing that I'm trying to hide my embarrassment.

Wow. His sexy points just went up. There's just something about a man in uniform. Especially if it includes a gun and protecting the innocent. He must really reel them in. Too bad he's not really my type, being a flirt and all. He does remind me of someone, though. I just can't put my finger on who…

His grin morphs into a mischievous smirk. "Why? You want to pat me down and check if I'm carrying?" he asks, leaning into me with his mouth almost touching my ear.

That move must really make the woman squeal, but I just find it kind of skeevy and annoying.

"There must be a hotel close by," not knowing when to stop, "so you can undress me and check."

_God, he's like a child,_ I think, shaking my head and smiling. He winks at some girls at the end of the bar. They start giggling and whispering to each other.

Typical.

"Soooo… What is an FBI agent doing at a fundraiser?" I ask, knowing full-well that people here are either rich, or accompanying said rich person. Or they work in the hospital, like Jane.

"My anti-social cousin invited me. Apparently he didn't want to come alone," he says with a bored voice.

So, he has a shy cousin. Seems impossible to believe, having experienced the decidedly not shy Richard for the last fifteen minutes. I just don't buy shyness being in his family's DNA.

But, then again, I gave birth to the perfect example of opposites: James and David.

Complete opposites.

And they shared a womb.

"He's the nerd you were telling me about?" I finally ask him.

"Yeah, that's him. Super smart guy – genius, actually. A brilliant mathematician." He stops talking as he scrunches up his eyebrows together. He's deep in thought.

William does the very same thing.

_Wow, get a grip, Lizzy! You're thinking of William again! You are so obsessed, you're seeing signs of him in random people. _

"He and his mind swarming with numbers could actually take over the world, if he wanted. He could build himself an army of robots, kind of like the Terminator. Unfortunately, he has all the social graces of a turtle... a dead turtle," he finishes saying.

I try to imagine a guy matching his description. But the only picture I can come up with is Einstein. He sounds like he must have some sort of autism or maybe Asperger's.

"Sounds like a charming guy," I say sarcastically.

He raises his eyebrows, noticing I'm making fun of his cousin. "Actually he is, once you get over his lack of personality."

Awww… Richard is protective of his cousin. It's sweet; even though he makes fun of him, Richard still loves him. Reminds me of the relationship James and David have. Those two are always fighting – mostly because David can't stop picking on and bothering James. But when it comes down to it, they will do anything to protect each other. They're brothers, after all.

"OK, let's change subjects – talking about my aloof cousin is making me feel depressed." He takes a sip from his drink and moves himself on the barstool so he's facing me. "Want to be my wingman tonight?" he asks me with a grin. "I really need one, and I doubt my cousin will help me. He's too much of an ass and it gets in the way when I'm trying to convince a woman to go home with me."

I look at him, perplexed that he's asking for my help to hook up with some woman from the party tonight.

"Why would you need me?" I ask him; because, really, this guy can get any woman he wants. He just has to smile that annoyingly charming smile of his.

He starts laughing, as if the answer to the question was completely obvious. "It's not that I need you, it's more like you need me_._" Now, this really has me confused. "It's a 'win-win' situation. You scratch my back and I'll scratch yours. You help me find a girl for tonight and I'll help you get a man."

My cheeks pink up a bit as I spit out, "What makes you think I need a man?"

He gives me a look that screams: _Are you serious? You so obviously do._ "I'm not even going to try to justify that with an answer. You obviously haven't gotten laid in a very long time." He eyes me up and down, taking it all in. I cross my arms self-consciously over my chest.

"How would you know that?" I say, holding myself tighter.

He chuckles. _That chuckle is starting to get __really__ annoying._

"Obviously," he shakes his head, "you're not used to all this male attention. I can tell by the way you try to cover yourself up," he says, tilting his head to my covered chest and then to our left where a group of men are eyeing me. "That either happens to women who think they are ugly, who don't have enough experience with men, who don't want the attention of men, or who are just not used to having the attention of men… Now, I lean more towards the latter, because you have to know you're beautiful. I mean, come on, look at you! A woman who feels badly about their body would never wear a dress so clingy. You have three children, so I have to imagine lack of experience is not an issue. You don't seem like a radical feminist and we are having a nice little conversation, so I don't conclude that you are anti-male…" He pauses for a moment, considering. "It's clear that you aren't used to wearing such revealing dresses, so you wanted to attract some male attention, but you are uncomfortable how much attention you have generated thus far."

I continue to stand there, a little dumbfounded, as his monologue rattles on, "Which leads me to believe that something must have happened to get you to wear such a dress. Maybe you wanted to impress someone? Or just wanted to feel better about yourself? I'm leaning towards a fight with a boyfriend. But, no… you don't have a boyfriend… It must have been a fight with your ex-husband – perhaps the father of your children – to make you want to wear this dress, and give your confidence a boost," he says concludes, still eyeing me.

It's strange. He's not looking at me like a man looking at a woman. It's more impersonal, like a doctor examining a patient. Not looking to appreciate, but looking to gather facts.

Then I remember that the man in front of me is a detective with the FBI.

Now I know what he's trying to hide under all that pretty: He's smart. Scary smart.

He looks up and, looking at my eyes, fakes a cough and glues on a stupid grin. As if he just noticed his slip and hopes he hasn't blown it. Like he hopes that I still think he's all flash and no substance.

"I don't know…" he chuckles, "I just think you need to loosen up and get yourself a man. Hey, I'll volunteer. I think you're sexy as hell!" He winks at me as he stands up. This seems more like him; the easy flirt, not the man who can tell you who you really are with just one glance.

Still trying to hide behind the carefree façade, he downs the last shots laid in front of him. However, by the way his eyes are scanning the whole room – attentive and alert, like he's analyzing for potential threats – I don't think 'carefree' is a word I would use to describe him.

His eyes, his smile, his laugh all hide a darkness that envelops his being.

For those who are looking, you can see the sadness and regret deep within his eyes. This guy has seen and lived through some terrible things. He's probably _done_ terrible, unimaginable things.

But here he is, in front of me at the bar and smiling. I wonder if his promiscuous behavior not only provides him a cover, but maybe it helps him forget the bad stuff.

As I'm looking into his smiling face and unsmiling eyes, I realize it's more familiar than it should be. It's that same smile Olive uses when she's hiding something. Huh.

"…but I don't feel like being a daddy," he says, snapping me back to attention. "I've protected myself all my life to avoid that situation… Plus, I don't want to ruin this kickass friendship we got going here," signaling his hand between the two of us, desperately trying to reassert his persona of bonhomie.

What were we talking about? Oh, yeah. Apparently I need a man and he'd volunteer, but doesn't want to ruin our 'kickass friendship'. Right. Well, good looking or not, it's clear he's got more baggage than me. And that's saying something.

On the other hand, a 'kickass friendship' might not be a bad thing. He looks like he'd be good with my kids. He's smart enough to stay ahead of them, he's clearly someone who would have no problem laughing and playing with them, and the way that he scans the crowd, I think they'd be pretty safe. He's speaking again. I have to keep my brain from wandering off.

"I'm sorry, princess, but I'm not the type to be changing diapers."

I turn and look at him. What is up with people thinking my children are four months old?

"The triplets are ten. No more diapers," I tell him.

His eyebrow shoots up when I say this. He's confused. "How... no, don't tell me… I know how… Hold up! Hold up there! Triplets?! And they're ten? How old were you when you had them? Twelve?"

"James, David, and Olivia are all ten. I was 18 – pretty young, I know."

He looks like he wants to ask me something else (probably about their father), but he stops himself. Apparently, good manners trumps curiosity in this case.

"I'd set you up with my cousin, but he hates children. He doesn't understand how children can be so clumsy and have sticky fingers 24/7." He adds, "And you're a single mother of three, so that wouldn't really work out."

I roll my eyes. Yeah, let's skip the boring, socially inept, child-hating cousin then.

"Seems like my cuz stood me up," he says, changing the subject. He continues to scan the ballroom looking for his missing relative.

I keep thinking Richard reminds me of someone: The laugh, that look that tells me he's hiding something, the way he comes off as an idiot but underneath, he's all genius, those gorgeous mesmerizing green eyes you can drown in…

_I don't want to sleep with the guy, but I'm not dead, you know…_

I just can't think straight anymore. The champagne is really clouding my mind.

_Wow, Lizzy, a few years without alcohol and you can't have a glass of champagne without getting buzzed. _

_Just great._

"Oh, well look at that! He didn't stand me up after all!" Richard chirps, looking at a group of people just entering the ballroom. "Get ready to meet my boring cousin!"

I laugh at how Richard describes him. I wonder what this prime bundle of child-hating manhood really looks like. Richard says he's a nerd, but I have to imagine he's not too ugly, sharing genes with Richard after all.

I scan the group and my heart stops.

My brain vaguely registers Charles walking into the ballroom with some people. None of them matter except the man behind Charles – dark hair combed back, impeccable tux, and icy blue eyes that are roaming around the room, finally landing on Richard and me.

Darcy has arrived.

_Oh, no. No, no, no, no! This can't be happening. _

I look between Darcy and Richard. Darcy can't be the cousin… He just can't be. Am I really that unlucky?

_OK, Lizzy, take a deep breath and don't get all excited. Charlie could be Richard's cousin. Yeah… That makes sense. They are always both laughing. Yeah. Charlie must be his cousin. _

I breathe and try to relax.

_Nothing to worry about, Lizzy. Of __course__ Richard and Darcy aren't cousins. They couldn't be more different! Just breathe and smile…_

I look over at Darcy again, wearing his ever-present frown.

_Oh, God. Richard said 'boring'._

My heart speeds up a little.

_He said 'nerdy'. _

I scratch my elbow, feeling a little fidgety.

_He said 'anti-social'. _

Not one of those words describes Charlie.

I close my eyes and attempt to keep myself from hyperventilating, hoping this will all just go away.

"Please, please tell me Bingley is your cousin," I beg Richard.

I can't quiet the mantra repeating in my brain: _Please, please, God, make him tell me that Bingley is his cousin. Make him tell me that Bingley is his cousin. I'll never miss church – __ever__ – if you do this for me. Please… please?_

Richard looks at me a little strangely. "Noooo…" He answers hesitantly. "My cuz is the one behind him. You know… Tall, dark and awkward? Oozing social discomfort? That's the guy."

Well, crap.

So much for bargaining with the Supreme Being.

How in the world can Richard – the talkative, outspoken, hilarious guy – be related to gloom and doom Darcy? It's impossible! What have I done to deserve this?! God must really hate me!

And just to make my life even more perfect, Charles and the Merry Band of Gloom start walking towards us. Charles, as always, with a huge smile on his face. I'm starting to think he had some special surgical procedure, because there is no way on earth a person can smile that much.

I begin to take in the rest of the party. There's woman with a hand on Darcy's arm, who clearly thinks everyone in the room is beneath her. Her perfect, surgically enhanced nose is stuck in the air – a match with her made-to-order fake boobs. Red, wavy hair falls gently down her back. The dress she's wearing makes Oscar dresses look off-the-rack.

She's beautiful. Everything about her is purely and utterly perfect.

She must be Darcy's girlfriend.

_I hate her._

My eyes go to where their arms are locked around each other, and then travel up to Darcy's face. He's frowning. Well, Darcy and Redhead Barbie are perfect for each other – both gorgeous and, considering their faces, both miserable.

I shake my head and start laughing. His frown deepens, confused by my laughter.

Yes, Darcy, I'm laughing at you. I'm laughing because it's easier to laugh than to cry.

* * *

><p>Darcy POV<p>

"Why the bloody hell are we going to this party again?" Caroline asks for the 16th time in 13 hours, 36 minutes since Charles told her they were going to a fundraiser.

"Because Jane will be there, and I want you to meet her," Charles says patiently, as we drive toward the party.

_46368… 75025... 121393… 196418… _I close my eyes and try to block out the sound of Caroline's whining. Most of the time, I really appreciate Caroline – she's like a sister to me. But sometimes I wish I had never met her. This is one of those times.

_317811… 514229… 832040…_

"I hope she's not a gold digger, like last one. I swear, Charles, if this girl turns out like the last one, I promise you this will be the last 'angel' of yours I meet," Louisa says, "… and please, in the name of the queen, don't bring her back to your flat!"

_1346269… 2178309…_

I open my eyes.

_My numbers aren't working. I need to try something else._

I take my earphones from my pocket and plug them into my phone. I close my eyes and try to lose myself in the music. My fingers unconsciously tap my knees as if I were actually playing the piano music in my ears.

I think about the many times I would sit Georgiana on my lap (her doll, Olivia, sitting on hers), and let her watch me play. Her blue eyes would shine as she watched the movements of my fingers pressing the keys. I remember so distinctly the sound her sock-covered feet would make as she ran to meet me at the door and beg me to play for her.

But those moments are long gone – and probably long forgotten, on her part. Now, the only thing I have left of those memories is the music I would play for her.

I feel someone's hand on top of mine, stopping my fingers from tapping. I open my eyes, surprised at the intrusion.

"Are you okay?" Caroline asks worriedly.

These are the moments I appreciate Caroline – and why I put up with her dramatics and snobby behavior. She can be annoying and whiney sometimes, but she cares about the people close to her.

I let out a long breath, "Yes, why would you inquire?"

"Well, you started counting as soon as you got in the car," Caroline responds.

"And, then you started with the piano music," Louisa continues.

"And you only do that when something is bothering you," Charles finishes.

"I wasn't counting numbers, I was adding them," annoyed that I have to point out the difference. "The Fibonacci sequence, to be exact," I add, even though I doubt they know what I'm talking about. _Ridiculous, they teach this stuff in grade second..._

"Does this have to do with Elizabeth?" Charles whispers, looking at his sisters and brother-in-law, making sure they can't hear.

"No, Charles. I'm perfectly fine," I whisper back.

And it's true. I haven't thought about her the whole day. But now that you say it...

"How's your family?" I ask Caroline, trying to distract myself.

"Oh they're just great!" Caroline gushes. "Sophia won her school's pageant and talent show! Such an accomplished girl, my Sophia is! And of course Logan is running for senator again." Caroline continues to tell me about her husband and 10-year-old daughter, but I completely block her out. Caroline can talk for hours and hours about her family. Something I don't mind, since I can just listen and not be a participant in the conversation. I just nod whenever is necessary to make her believe I'm paying attention. I just need the calm that the white noise brings me.

"Oh look, we're here… Yippee…" Louisa says sarcastically, as all five of us get out of the car and head to the ballroom.

It's nice. Nothing as nice as any of the ballrooms I own, but I hardly think anyone could match their beauty, after all.

Charles, of course, the minute he steps into the packed ballroom, immediately starts to look for his blond angel. My eyes look around and land on a couple at the bar. I can only see the woman's back, but she is beautiful. She's wearing a backless white dress, and I can see her toned muscles contract every time she moves. The dress follows her every curve – it looks like it was poured on. Her thick black hair is pulled around over her shoulder, not impeding the glorious view of her back.

While I am appreciating the vision before me, she and her companion turn around and look straight at us.

My heart stops beating. My lungs cease to breathe.

_3524578… 5702887… 9227465… 14930352… 24157817… 39088169… 63245986…_

I can't stop the numbers flying through my mind. I swear, even the earth starts spinning.

In front of me is the reason I agreed to come with Charles tonight. I needed the distraction. I needed to keep my mind from thinking about her.

The goddess in front of me is Elizabeth.

I look at her.

_She is magnificent. _

She and her companion stand up. I pay him no attention because I cannot see past the vision she presents. Her beautiful face, the hair I remember running my fingers through, her body I can almost still feel beneath my hands, her legs that travel for miles before they reach her heels. She was right – she is tall. I don't think I would survive if those legs were any longer.

She is stunning in ways that no other woman could ever hope to be.

I barely remember to breathe. She says something to the man beside her. My whole body boils with anger and jealousy. Her head snaps up looking for something. She smiles and laughs as the man whispers something in her ear. Her eyes still search the crowded room for something. Or someone…?

Then her eyes meet mine.

Our eyes lock for what seems like an eternity. Those deep brown orbs meet mine and the world just stops.

She's shocked… confused… perplexed… As if she's seeing an impossibility turned real.

All this is compacted into a split second, between when I first see her and now, with our eyes locked to each other.

I start to move unconsciously towards her, like it's a gravitational pull and I have no choice. Caroline, Charles and the Hursts follow me.

Twenty-three steps it takes me to get to her. We both stand there, watching each other, feeling like idiots because neither of us knows what to say.

She takes a deep breath, lets it out. Shuffles her feet a little. Left hand pinky finger twirls a lonely strand of hair that has fallen into her beautiful eyes.

"Hello," I say, but no sound escapes my throat. I cannot move. It's as if someone has played a cruel joke on me and has left me glued into this place.

"Willy, dude! We were just talking about you," Elizabeth's companion says to me, taking me into a big embrace. I'm about to shove him off of me when I recognize the voice.

Only one person calls me 'Willy'.

"Richard." I glare at my idiotic cousin. I had completely forgotten I had invited him. I love my cousin, I honestly do, but sometimes his childish behavior drives me mad.

"So… Darcy is your cousin, Richard?" Elizabeth's sweet, honey voice asks.

I could drown in that voice. So soft, so melodic – it soothes me in the same way my piano does.

"Yeah… Wait – how do you know him?" Richard asks, confused.

Elizabeth smiles a smile that could light up this whole country. "Do you really want to know, Fitzwilliam?"

"Hell yeah!" he eagerly responds.

"Well then, prepare yourself for the horrid story. The first time I met your cousin was outside a courthouse where he proceeded to call me stupid. Later on he had the audacity to call me ugly and accused me, quite loudly, of being a single mother who worked in a grocery store, trying to land myself a rich husband. Oh, and he also said I was single because no man wanted me, worst part is that he called my children bastards, " Elizabeth says with a twinkle in her eyes, teasing me in front of everyone.

My heart falls. Again. She still doesn't remember me. She only remembers me as the rude guy from court and from lunch with Charles.

Richard gasps, "Only a blind man would call you ugly because you, princess, are anything but ugly! What the hell were you thinking, Willy?"

I'm with you in that, dear cousin. A man would be blind to call Elizabeth ugly.

But then my brain registers something he said. Princess? Since when does my cousin know Elizabeth? How long has he known her for? Long enough to get a nickname, apparently

Caroline pipes up in my defense, "Well, if Darcy said it, it must be true. Since he has better taste then all of us here combined." Sycophantic, but at least she's got my back.

"Willy likes men, princess, so don't feel too offended," Richard tells Elizabeth.

Elizabeth laughs at his joke. All I want to do at this moment is to punch my cousin. Jealousy fills me up like poison would fill up a bomb.

_You can't like Elizabeth,_ I tell myself. _She has three children. She's a single mum for god's sake! She is __not__ for you!_

"How do you two know each other?" I ask them suspiciously.

"Oh, me and Lizzy go way back. Right, Liz?" Richard says, wrapping an arm over her shoulder.

I fight back and urge to go punch my cousin. He smirks and gets closer to her. We've known each other for so long he must know that this is bothering me. And of course Richard, being Richard, flirts even more just to provoke me.

Elizabeth rolls her eyes and shrugs his arm from her shoulders, "We met at a bookstore"

So, they didn't meet here at the party. I wonder if Richard knows that Lizzy is my Elizabeth from London.

"Oh! You're the single mum!" Louisa exclaims beside me. "Darcy told us about the little spat you two had at court."

"Oh, yes! You're Jane's sister – Charles told us you had three children. You have a three year old right?" Caroline says looking at Elizabeth from head to toe. She's probably figuring out how much her outfit cost, already having concluded that it is not a designer label.

"Three?" Richard looks confused and looks over at Elizabeth. She smiles and only I notice as she slyly throws Richard an elbow to the ribs. Richard looks back to the group and says, " Oh, yes… she has a three-year-old. Quite a lovely child, too." He gently cradles his side.

Richard glances back at Elizabeth, and I realize they are hiding something. I've known Richard for far too long to doubt that.

"Oh, you've met her then? What's her name again, Charles? Is it Olma?" Caroline asks.

"Olpa," Charles responds with his ever-present smile.

"Of course I have! All three of them, including Oli- …" he stops in mid name and looks at Elizabeth, "… including Olpa." he finishes.

He was clearly going to say something else. Elizabeth did the same thing when she first told us the name of her daughter. What is it that is not being said? And why is Richard in on it?

"Now, if you don't mind, I have to go to the bathroom," Richard says, whispering something in Elizabeth's ear before he walks off. She just barely nods her head at him and looks at us nervously as Richard walks away..

They are definitely hiding something.

A petite girl comes up to Elizabeth and whispers in her ear.

_What's up with the whispering to Elizabeth tonight?_

Elizabeth just laughs in response and shakes her head. Still looking uncomfortable, her phone chirps and she looks down to read the new text message.

She brings her attention back to the group and announces, "Everyone, this is my little sister Mary." She glances nervously at her phone again, and surreptitiously tries to respond to the text message. "Mary, why don't you go find Jane and Charlotte. They were looking for you."

I look at the girl. So this is Elizabeth's younger sister – the one she used to star gaze with. She has purple hair and she's wearing clothes more appropriate to a funeral. Who in their right mind dyes their hair purple? The girl doesn't even smile or acknowledge our presence; her eyes focused on the wall behind us. There must be something mentally wrong with her, I conclude.

_How can this girl and Elizabeth be related?_

I'm too distracted trying to figure the answer to this question, when I hear a loud gasp. I look up to find a beautiful, tall, blonde woman and a short brunette staring at me with a look of utter disbelief; their mouths open in shock and eyes as wide as saucers.

* * *

><p>Elizabeth POV<p>

At least Richard went along with my lie. If I had known who he was, I would never have told him the names and ages of my children.

"You're going to have to explain this later," Richard whispers as he heads to the bathroom.

I nod my head with a slight movement and look at the rest of the tiny group. Did they hear what he said?

"Do you need an escape route to get out of this? Because I can so act like I'm having an asthma attack," Mary whispers in my ear. I didn't even notice she was behind me. I laugh, loving that my little sis has my back. My phone chirps and I grab it out of my bag and read the new text:

_From: unknown number_

_Time:7:05_

_Ok so I'm impatient. I have ADHD what can I say. WHY THE HELL DID I JUST HAVE TO LIE TO MY COUSIN OUT THERE?_

_-Richard_

What do I say? How do I explain to him that his cousin is the father of my children?

_Simple, Lizzy, you just don't. If you tell him, he will go straight to William and you just can't have that._

Looking back up I say, "Everyone, this is my little sister Mary," hopefully stalling for time. The two women in the group stare at Mary's clothes and hair in horrified wonder, as if their tiny minds can't conjecture how she got into the party. They size her up and clearly find her wanting.

My sister continues to stand there, staring at nothing, as they complete their investigation. Who knows what's going on in Mary's mind?

I quickly look back at my phone and reply to the text:

_To: Unknown number_

_Time: 7:06_

_How did you get my #?_

_-Lizzy_

I press 'SEND' and then it hits me.

Mary is here. Mary is freaking here!

And Darcy is here! Oh. My. God. This is not good.

"Mary, why don't you go find Jane and Charlotte. They were looking for you," I tell her in an effort to get her away from the group. The good thing about Mary is that she pays little attention to the people around her, quite happy in her own little world. If I can get her away, maybe she won't connect the dots.

And just as I'm comfortable thinking I've got a plan and it's all good, I hear a loud gasp. I face the sound and I'm confronted with Charlotte and Jane, standing there with mouths wide open and staring at Darcy.

Darcy.

Damn.

I realize the jig is up. Darcy looks exactly like my children. My 'red herring' description of the children's father or no, they are going to realize he's the father.

What the hell do I do now?!

_Deep breath, Lizzy. Maybe you can save this. Just explain and stick to your story. _

I turn towards the group, and spy a confused Darcy from the corner of my eye.

"I'll just borrow these three for a quick minute." I grab my sisters and Charlotte and lead them to the far end of the bar, hoping to do some fast talking and throw them off the scent.

They immediately attack me with questions:

"What the hell, Lizzy? –"

"He looks exactly like James –"

"Except the freckles –"

"And Olivia –"

"How can he look like your children? –"

"You said William had green eyes. So how can this man look exactly like your children if he's not the father? – "

Jane and Charlotte are talking over each other, both of them asking question after question. My mind feels like it's going to explode. Mary just stands beside them her eyes deep in thought.

"First of all," I say, "I don't know how he can look like them. Like I told you, the triplet's father is American and has green eyes. Darcy is most definitely British and has blue eyes that would never be confused with green."

"Maybe he's a family member?" Jane suggests.

"Brother, father, uncle… cousin, maybe?" Charlotte adds.

"Let's just ask him. See if he has an American cousin or something," Jane suggests to Charlotte completely forgetting that I'm even standing there

"Yeah! Let's do that!" Charlotte responds and takes Jane's arm, leading her back over to Darcy. I run after them, and all I can see is Darcy's frown as they approach.

"Hey, we have a question for you…" Charlotte begins, even before they get in front of him.

_How the hell do I stop this? How the hell do I stop this? _

And then I realize there's no way of stopping what's about to happen. There is no amount of fast talking that will get me out of this. They will figure it out. Darcy will figure it out. None of them are stupid.

"Holy God and all the saints! That restroom… " Richard says as he approaches me from behind, throwing his arm over my shoulder, "… was disgusting! I don't know who went before me but, damn! They have to get their stomach checked. It smelled like a skunk crawled up their ass and died!" he continued, flashing everyone with a huge smile. You could have heard a pin drop.

Charlotte, Jane – even Mary – look even more shocked than before. If that's even possible.

"Oh, hello! Where are my manners?" Richard points to William and says, "I'm Darcy's cousin." More silence. "I promise you, beautiful women, that my mother did teach me some manners. Please forgive me, but I just had to come and inform my cuz of my amazing bathroom discovery, in case he wants to conduct a scientific study in there." Richard's million-dollar smile still beaming.

Jane, Charlotte and Mary still haven't moved. Their mouths still hang open, but nothing comes out, not even a 'hi'. Richard stands there smiling and waiting for them to acknowledge him.

"Sorry… it's just… wow – you look so much like someone we know," Jane finally says, finding some composure. "I'm Jane, Elizabeth's sister… And you are?"

Richard gives her an appreciative gaze. Of course he would. It's Jane-freaking-Bennet. The perfect woman.

"Richard Fitzwilliam, at your service."

Their gasps are drowned out by the sound of Charlotte's dropped champagne glass breaking.

I look at Richard and that's when I see what they see: Green eyes. Black hair. I don't know how I didn't realize it before. The same humor – they even have the same nose! A perfect copy. Richard Fitzwilliam looks exactly like David. With 'Fitzwilliam' for a last name and his Boston accent, he is exactly how I described the fake father of my children.

"W… Wi… William…?" Jane stutters.

They think Richard is William.

Well, damn.

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><p><strong>AN: ok so everyone thought the mystery guy was George Wickham except three people. Even my beta thought it was George Wickham so don't feel bad. I hate Wickham so I would never do that to you guys.**

**the Question was actually a contest to see who got it right. The first person who guessed correctly was going to get a sneak preview of when Darcy meets one of the kids for the first time, but the person who got it right was a guest reviewer. So I can't really send it….so I guess I'll have to do another competition for the next chapter.**

**But props to the guest reviewer named Vanessa who got it right! This chapter is dedicated to you!**

**So I have a question would you want shorter chapters or long chapters are ok?**

**But thanks to everyone who reviewed I really appreciate it. I haven't gone to check how many people read my story. So in my mind only the people who follow or review are the people who have read it. So in my mind only 200 people have read it. I should go check that out. Maybe it's been more….**

**So yeah when you review I feel like people actually like it and appreciate it. Because sometimes I just feel like stopping since I'm always busy. But you guys really keep me motivated!**

**Another thing I wanted to add I've only read two stories that involve Lizzy being pregnant, can someone recommend me stories that talk are similar to my story so I can see how they ended it?**

**But thanks so much to everyone again!**

**I love you guys!**

**Los queiro mucho!**

**As always those who review or favorite or follow get free virtual food! This time it's a Big Mac! (You people are gonna think I'm fat by the way I'm always talking about food, but honestly I'm not. My sister is a vegan so there's no good food in the house. Just healthy stuff )**

**Thanks everyone!**

**and again thanks to Julianabr who is the best beta! I give her unreadable stuff and she actually understands it and polishes it. so thanks!**


	9. Rabid Bear Bites

**A/N: HI GUYS! Sorry that I haven't updated in a while but here it is! so yay!**

**Answering Team Big Mac!**

**So I didn't have a lot of questions to answer. But to answer one of you lovely reviewers I am American! from the east coast! from a lovely state that has mountains and beach! But I guess you asked that question because I wrote in Darcy's POV with British words...I have a friend and he's from London. So I'm always hearing him say words that I don't understand. The first time I heard the word flat I honestly had no idea what he was talking about. **

**And about the lawyer question you will get the answer in the next chapters.**

**Also about the way I presented Lizzy in the first chapters I did it purposely since she has so much hate towards Darcy that she looks like the type to dislike a whole country because of one person. But she'll change I promise.**

**I love you British people so her ideas aren't mine. my friends who are British are hilarious...and loud...is that how all of you British people are or just my friends? **

**Oh also I did check and I have thousands of readers!I'm mind blown! So thanks a lot guys! Oh also I notice I have a lot of readers from Ireland so about my darn Irish heritage I said some chapters ago I just want to say I love my Irish heritage. I just dislike the fact that I had to get the auburn hair... thanks mom...**

**So I read the stories you guys told me and...wow they are soooo awesome! And well written! **

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><p>ok so since its been a while I'm going to give you guys a summary of what's happened.<p>

Lizzy got pregnant when she took a trip to England and met Darcy. 10 years later and she's moved back to Manhattan with her children who are triplets. So Jane met Charles in a fundraiser and she asked Lizzy to meet him since she couldn't and Lizzy went to meet Bingley in a restaurant and that's when she meets Darcy again. Who she hates because she thinks he abandoned her. She thinks he doesn't remember her and he thinks she doesn't remember her.

Lizzy describes to her sisters and Charlotte how supposedly the father of her children looks like. but of course she's lying. She told them he was from Boston and had green eyes and dark hair and has a great sense of humor

Lizzy meets Richard in a bookstore. And he has all those things she mentioned to her sisters but she doesn't realize it

She goes with her sisters to a fundraiser for the hospital where Jane and Charlotte work. there she sees Darcy again. She realizes that Richard is the cousin of Darcy and then her sisters and Charlotte see Richard and think that he is the father of the triplets...

* * *

><p><strong>Disclaimer: I don't own Pride&amp; Prejudice. All these characters are Jane Austen's so please don't sue me...im broke...<strong>

* * *

><p><em>"Richard Fitzwilliam, at your service."<em>

_Their gasps are drowned out by the sound of Charlotte's dropped champagne glass breaking._

_I look at Richard and that's when I see what they see: Green eyes. Black hair. I don't know how I didn't realize it before. The same humor – they even have the same nose! A perfect copy. Richard Fitzwilliam looks exactly like David. With 'Fitzwilliam' for a last name and his Boston accent, he is exactly how I described the fake father of my children._

_"W… Wi… William…?" Jane stutters._

_They think Richard is William._

_Well, damn._

* * *

><p>Lies. A few simple words can wield such power over people. Words that you can write and erase, type and delete, have the power to create a whole new world; a world that people will believe in because you said it was so.<p>

But there's a catch.

Lies have a tendency to come back and bite you in the ass. And I'm not talking about little butterfly bites you can't feel. Nooooooo. I'm talking rabid-30-foot-tall-rabid-wild-bear-that-is-chasing-after-you-after-you-shot-their-cub kind of bites.

As a mom, I have told my kids over and over not to lie. That lies will come back and haunt you.

I was so right. Karma's an ass-biter.

So here I stand, before my true "baby daddy" (as Charlotte would call him) and Richard, my "baby daddy" stand-in. I don't know which one's worse: Everyone knowing the truth – that I slept with Darcy the asshat, who has the personality of a pencil. Or having everyone think I slept with a womanizer like Richard, who has a bit too much personality.

Sometimes, I hate my life.

Everyone is looking at the encroaching estrogen horde as if they were green and had two heads. Charlotte is looking like she's about to explode in a fury of pure anger at any moment. Jane is… well, Jane is Jane, so she looks like she wants to yell, but her politeness and sweetness stops her. And because she's never really experienced anger before, it makes her look more confused than anything else. It's cute. I want to hug her and give her a certificate that reads, "Congratulations, you've experienced anger!" (Do you think Hallmark has a card for that?)

In any case, Richard has no idea that the petite little New Yorker (Charlotte) is about to erupt hell-fire, and the tall blond angel is going to have a completely unpredictable response (having never experienced anger before, and all). All I know is, it's not going to be pretty.

I start feeling really sorry for Richard. This is not his problem. He didn't impregnate and then abandon me and, subsequently, our children. Darcy did.

This situation would be hilarious – I would be lying on the floor, rolling with laughter, right now – if this weren't happening to me.

But it is.

Like always, I have the worst luck in the world. Yay me.

I quickly realize my need to regain control this situation before this goes so far south it's beyond repair. Any minute Charlotte is going to blow and start demanding at least a child support check. And who knows what Jane will do. She might even furrow her brow.

So what do I do? My "go-to" technique for untenable situations:

I blurt out, "Little Red Riding Hood's real name is Blanchette!"

Everyone freezes for a minute. And then Richard starts laughing. Hysterically. Not the 'knock-knock joke' kind of laughing, but the 'comedy show after-party with Ellen DeGeneres' kind of laughing. He's bent over; holding his gut and laughing so hard he can't breathe.

Now, it's everyone's turn to stare at Richard. I look over at Darcy to see his reaction. I worry this might have made him remember the awkward conversations we use to have back in London, all of them starting with me blurting out a random, useless fact of no use to anyone. Not even contestants on 'Jeopardy!'

However, no sign of recognition dawns on Darcy's face. His frown just gets bigger, signifying that I am the biggest idiot in the world.

Well, Darcy, I may be an idiot, but you slept with this idiot. And your offspring are carrying half of my random-fact-spewing DNA… Well, at least technically… Even if they don't look like me or act like me… But my DNA is in their little bodies… Somewhere… Really, really deep inside.

But it's there! So ha! In your face buddy!

Tonight, when I agreed to come to the fundraiser, I just wanted a little distraction from my normal routine. I just wanted to put on something pretty and have a conversation that didn't start, "Mommy…" Is that such a bad thing?

And it was a good distraction. Right up until Darcy showed up and Jane, Charlotte and Mary thought Richard was the father of my children. Which, really, is the stupidest thing I have ever heard! Me and Richard?! Really?! Yeah, I think there's a better chance of getting struck by lightening eight times while walking to claim my winning lottery ticket, than of me ever hooking up with Richard.

So, all this time, Richard is just laughing, Charles and his group are looking very uncomfortable, Darcy's frowning, Jane is looking confused (but we know it's really anger), Mary is staring off into space, and Charlotte looks like she's about to lay into Richard about his ten-year absence from his children's lives.

And I realize this is it. The moment when all my lies come back and give me the rabid-bear bite. I close my eyes, helpless against my fate, waiting for the axe to fall.

And then the strangest thing happens.

"I dislike large social gatherings because they are society's way of making everyone judge each other. Everyone is forced to act and speak in a different way in order to impress, even if it's not really them. Hence, making the whole exercise a façade. But that's not even the worst part. What I truly dislike is the way that everyone thinks it's acceptable to interfere in other people's lives. For example, if someone hasn't done what another considers 'necessary' – whether by word or deed – what make it appropriate for an acquaintance, or even a friend or relative, to intrude?"

Everyone turns to look at Mary, having forgotten she was even standing there.

Charles and his little group have no idea what Mary is talking about, but I know she's really telling Charlotte and Jane to back off. If I haven't said anything to the father of the triplets, it's my business and they shouldn't intrude.

Strange speech or not, it seems to have closed Charlotte's mouth. Even Jane looks like they just caught her in the middle of a crime.

I could kiss the strange ground Mary walks on.

"Thank you, Mary," I tell her, hoping the Bingleys think I'm just trying to cut her off, but really trying to express my undying gratitude.

Charlotte jumps in, "You know, it's been a pleasure to meet you all, but my friends and I need to excuse ourselves for a moment." And with a last death-glare at Richard, she grabs all three of us and drags us into the women's bathroom.

I brace myself for the yelling that's about to occur. But nothing happens. Charlotte, Jane and Mary just stand there, staring at me. It's like that for several moments until Jane finally speaks. "How long have you been in contact with him?" she asks softly, looking like she's about to cry.

I'm about to say, _Yesterday, when I met him at lunch with Charles_. But then I remember that they are talking about Richard, and not William.

_Stick to the truth, Lizzy. Well, the Lizzy flavored truth, at least._

"I saw him today at the bookstore," I respond evenly.

"When you took Olive for the book signing?" Charlotte asks.

I nod my head.

"Did he see her?" Mary questions.

I shake my head, no.

"Does he know about them?" she asks softly.

I take a minute and think about how I should answer Mary's question. If I tell them that he doesn't, they'll want to go straight to Richard in front of William and start telling them about my children. About how old they are. That they're triplets. And then all these carefully laid lies will have been in vain. William would know.

I nod my head in response. I start feeling guilty immediately, even though I'm technically telling the truth – Richard does know that they are ten-year-old triplets.

"Does he know they're his?"

Sigh. "No," I whisper, letting the word sink into me. He doesn't know… and he never will. Everything he's shown me tells me he doesn't want children. He would probably treat them even worse, just because I'm their mother. And knowing that he will never love them, imagining Olive's face when she perceives his rejection, ratifies my decision that William will never know.

"You have to tell him," Charlotte argues.

"Excuse me?" I am completely startled because if anyone were on my side it would be Charlotte.

"He has to know. You can't just hide that from someone."

"He doesn't want them," I explain, trying to make her understand.

"How do you know?" Jane whispers. She looks up at me with her big blue eyes. "You'll never know unless you give him the chance to make that decision. Maybe he would want to be part of their lives. Maybe he would be the best father ever. You just don't know." She sighs. "Just like you have the right to be with them, he has that right also. He has the right to memorize the words to whatever song Olive has in replay right now. He has the right to see David's face transform every time you cave and buy him McDonalds. He has the right to get frustrated helping the triplets with homework, because he can't quite remember how to do the math involved. He has a right to all of that."

My turn to sigh. I know what she says is the truth. Darcy does have the right to be part of their lives. He deserves the choice.

Darcy doesn't know that he's been a father for ten years, to three amazing little people who look exactly like him. He doesn't know that James was the first of the three to sleep through the night. He doesn't know that Olivia had trouble latching on when I breast-fed her and that when she finally did I wanted to cry. He doesn't know that David would wake up the most out of the three because he was always hungry; even though I fed him and fed him, until finally I slept with him beside me. He doesn't know that I was a human incubator for his three children for nine months. Nor does he know that for the months that followed, all I did was pump and pump milk because two boobs do not fit well into an equation with three infants. He doesn't know how hard it was to put them to sleep when they were just babies, because when one would wake up crying and wake up the rest of them. He doesn't know that the majority of the time when they would start crying, I would cry with them out of pure frustration. He doesn't know that James is a math genius, or that Olivia wears glasses like he does. He doesn't know when David was two, his ideal job was to be the red Power Ranger.

"You have to tell him, Lizzy," Charlotte urges me. "Tell him or we will. He does not leave this place without telling you if he wants to be part of their lives or not. This is not about you. This is about James, David and Olive." She pauses and looks at her feet for a minute. "Did you know that a month ago Olive called me from school crying because they were doing a pancake day at school for fathers? Where all the kids would bring their dads to breakfast to eat with them? Did you know that? And she was crying because she didn't have a dad to bring. Is that fair to any of them?"

I didn't know about that. My heart aches from the blow. How much do they hide from me, trying not to hurt my feelings?

Charlotte and Jane are right. I know they're right. I have to tell William. Leave what he wants to do up to him.

I nod my head, "OK."

"Very well then," Jane says. "We'll distract the others so you can talk with him." She pushes me out of the bathroom and to the table where Charles, Richard, William and the rest are sitting.

My mind and feelings are in such turmoil, I don't even notice that Jane, Charlotte and Mary have corralled everyone to the bar, leaving Richard at the table alone.

"I think they're trying to set us up, princess. Which is really weird, since I got the impression that your friends hate me," Richard says looking at the group of them huddled at the bar. Darcy is staring at us with his ever-present frown, probably thinking that his cousin shouldn't be talking to a person like me.

"By the way, wingman, I like her," he says, pointing over to the group.

I don't even need to look where he's pointing. "She's with Charles," I reply, trying to figure out a way to ditch Richard and talk to Darcy.

"No, not Jane. No offense, princess, but I don't like blondes. Plus she looks too nice," Richard smirks. "I'm talking about the one with the hair."

Now I look to see who he means. "Mary?! You like Mary!" I say in awe.

"That's her name? Mary? Yeah, she's cute. I like her style. Plus she's smart – I like smart."

I smile and shake my head. "I'll tell you what, help me talk to your cousin without my friends noticing, and I'll help you with Mary."

Richard raises an eyebrow, "Why would you want to talk to my cousin? I already told you, you have no chance with him."

I glare at him. "Never mind why, will you do it? Hey, scratch my back and I'll scratch yours," I say, repeating his words.

He chuckles as he stands up, and saunters over to his cousin. _Damn. That man is fine. I hope you enjoy that, Mary._ I think, smiling

Richard whispers something in his cousin's ear. William looks hesitant, but finally complies and walks back towards me.

"I need to tell you something," I say standing up but Richard interrupts me by coughing and making signs like he's scratching his back. I roll my eyes. "Wait here just a minute," I tell Darcy, leaving him confused as I walk towards my little sister.

"Mary, I need you to do me a favor," I whisper at her.

"What?" she says, standing up.

"I need you to talk to Richard and tell me what you think of him. Kind of like a scientific experiment. You like that, don't you? Science?"

"You want me to interrogate him to discover what his true motives are, establish what he believes in and construct a model of his personality based on my findings, before you tell him the truth?" Mary asks. With a straight face.

"Yeah… something like that. Can you do that for me?" I smile encouragingly at my sister, as I lead her over to Richard – who is now, of course, grinning like a maniac.

"He's outside on the balcony, princess."

As I make my way to the balcony, I hear Mary asking Richard, "What do you think of Plato's epistemology and his ideas of the father-son relationship?"

Good luck, Richard.

I think about what I'm about to do. I am going to tell William the truth. I'm going to tell him he's a father. He deserves at least this. He deserves the chance to know his children.

I laugh to myself. He definitely deserves to be embarrassed by David, like the time when he was three and asked me why girls didn't have weenies (his word of choice at the age of three). I got nervous and didn't know what to say, so I told him we have a different kind. David, of course, had to go tell the man in front of us in line that his mommy had a different kind of weenie. It was so embarrassing.

Yeah. He deserves to know that joy.

It would have saved me so many headaches if he had been there when I went back to look for him. He should have been there. He should have been there at the café, and he wasn't… He left me. He clearly didn't care about me. What makes me think that he will want my children?

I hesitate in the doorway to the balcony. He's looking out at the night sky and I can only see his outline.

He is just beautiful… So beautiful.

I pull myself back down to earth. He should have been there with me. He should have been at their birth. He should have been there for Olive when she cried. He should have been there to give David and James 'the talk'. He should have been the one taking them to the bathroom when they needed to go. I remember the time when they were four and they didn't want to go in the women's bathroom anymore. James took David's hand and they walked into the men's room together. William should have been there for them. He should have been there for me. I shouldn't have had to feel the pain of knowing they needed a man in their life, and that I couldn't give them one.

I can't change the past. It's done. But now I have the chance to change my children's future. I have the chance to let them have a father in their life.

William is standing there at the railing, holding himself in the same way as David does when he gets thoughtful. I have to control my impulse to go hug him. Because this man isn't my son…

My thoughts intrude on the scene. _He left me. He only used me. He only wanted one thing from me. And once he got it, he ran. What makes me think that he will care anything about the children? _

If only I could turn back time, I would tell my younger self to run past the café that cold summer day. I would tell my 18-yr-old self, _Don't go inside! There is a man named 'William' sitting in there, and he will only bring you heartache. Walk on by, or his face will haunt you for the rest of your life. Don't go in, Lizzy. _

But I did walk through the door of the café, that one cold summer day. And I did meet the man named William. So, heartache or not, I have to do this now. I have to tell him. _It's like a band-aid, Lizzy. Just rip it off quickly and cleanly. It hurts less that way._

I take a breath, square my shoulders and walk towards William. William, who is just so perfect looking on the outside, but completely rotted on the inside.

"Do you ever have regrets, Miss Bennet?" He surprises me by speaking first, even though his back is turned.

_Miss Bennet? Wow. He doesn't even want to say my name._

"How big are the regrets we're talking about, Mr. Darcy?"

He doesn't answer; he just stands there staring up at the darkened sky. He sighs. "Did you know that we never see these stars in their present state? They are so far away that the light may travel thousands, millions of light-years to reach us. Some of the stars we see tonight may be dead already, and we won't even know until the light stops." He pauses.

"OK…"

"The point is that the stars we see now, may not be there anymore. What we see isn't real. They appear other than they are," Darcy pauses for a moment. "Do I appear to be what I am, Miss Bennet, or am I just another dead star?" He goes quiet, but continues to look out into the night.

_He shined so bright when I met him, but I realized that deep down, was only darkness. He just appeared to be something else. I fell in love with a light that wasn't real. _

"I think you're a dead star," I whisper.

He turns around and this is the first time I really, really look at him. He's wearing his glasses. He's dressed to the nines. He hasn't shaved today, giving him 5 o'clock shadow. He just looks so tired, like he hasn't slept in years. He has a small, sad smile on his face.

He's still so beautiful. So beautiful. I want to reach out and cup his cheek, sooth his brow, ask him what is making him so sad. But, of course, I don't.

He breaks the silence, looking at me with his beautiful eyes and asks again, "Do you have any big regrets, Miss Bennet?" He sounds as if he is so far away.

I stare back at him and think about his question. _Do I have any big regrets?_

I break our gaze, walk to the balcony rail and look out. I decide to be honest.

"I had my children when I was very young. I think that's one of my biggest regrets. I feel that maybe I should have waited to have them, but…" I continue, "I don't regret having them. Not a single bit. They are my reason for living. I love them more than I can express. It is true when they say there's nothing like a mother's love." I pause again. "But I think I should have had them later on in life, when I could have offered them more… But then they would be different kids."

He just nods. And the night and sounds of the city engulf us. William turns back to the rail. We are so close we're almost touching shoulders as we look up at the sky. My skin shivers as I think of the last time we stargazed together, that last night on the roof, when we made the triplets.

What once felt like miles and miles of separation now feels like we're too close. Way too close. I can feel his warm breath touching my skin. It takes everything I have not to melt into him. I have to separate myself from this. This is too dangerous.

"What about you, Mr. Darcy? Any regrets?" I ask him and little too sharply.

He ignores my tone and whispers, "Yes. One." His voice is so quiet that I wonder if he really even said it.

I wait. I want to know what it is that he regrets. Does he regret leaving me that night? Does he regret not coming back? Does he regret meeting me in the first place? I want to know what goes on in his head. I want to know his secrets. I want him to let me in. But he doesn't.

Minutes pass and I think that he might have forgotten all about my question.

His quiet voice tentatively breaks the silence, "I have done many stupid things in my life. But ten years ago, I did the stupidest thing I had ever done and I regret it so much. I regret it so deeply." He stops speaking as quietly as he began, staring at his hands gripping the rail, white knuckled.

Ten years. He must mean me. Does he regret meeting me or sleeping with me? Does that mean he remembers me?

I shake my head clear. Of course he doesn't remember, he would have said something. He doesn't know the girl he hung out with, laughed with, slept with, was me. Of course he regrets it. I was (and still am) too far beneath him, and clearly not attractive enough for him to get past that.

He regrets me. What am I supposed to say to that? Anything I could possibly say would immediately reveal me as the girl involved in his greatest regret. I'm not sure I want him to know any more, triplets or not.

"My cousin said you needed to speak to me," William says suddenly, standing straighter and taking a step back away from me. As if I had some disease he might catch.

"Yes, I needed to tell you something," I whisper. I fight with myself. I know he has a right to know. I know I have to tell him, but I have no idea how.

_Just like a band-aid, Lizzy. Just do it quickly. He deserves to know. _

But then I look at him standing there, aloof and distant. His disdain for me is written all over his face. It feels as if miles and miles of hard terrain, impossible to cross, separate us.

And then I realize. He can't possibly be referring to me. To regret me would mean that I was important to him, and I wasn't. I wasn't important then, and I'm less important now.

_He doesn't care, Lizzy. He doesn't care. You were just one in faceless hundreds he's been with._

"I already know you don't like me, Miss Bennet," he spits out, interrupting my thoughts. "If you have come to acknowledge what I already know, you're wasting both of our time. I don't need you to explain the reasons for your easily apparent dislike." He turns his back on me and begins to walk back inside.

"I wasn't-" I start, but he stops walking and interrupts me.

"No need to dissemble, Miss Bennet. Your dislike is abundantly clear. I know every time we speak it is out of politeness and respect for your sister and my friend. Don't worry; our viewpoints are the same in this matter. I promise to avoid being in your company as best I can, and I trust you will do the same. I think it is best for all involved that we see each other as little as possible. That way we won't have to suffer through the tedious charade of being _friendly acquaintances_." He says the last looking over his shoulder, gritting through his teeth in clear disgust.

I open my mouth and close it again. I feel as if I was just punched in the gut. I knew he didn't remember me. I knew he felt I was beneath him. I knew it.

But I had hope. If not for me, then for my children.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid, Lizzy._

He hates me. He would hate them more.

A tear wants to slip from my eyes. But I hold it back. I will not let William see me cry.

_Right now is not the time to cry, Lizzy. Leave that for later. _"Very well then," I tell him.

I stand up straighter and begin to walk away, cursing Charlotte and Jane for forcing me to do this. I tried to do the right thing, but he won't even stand here to talk to me. There's no way he's going to parent with me. Having no father is better than having a father that wants to have nothing to do with you.

_We've been fine all this time without you. We'll continue to be fine. We don't need you._

As I'm striding back to the party, a tiny, tiny part of me wants him to stop me. To pull me into his arms and tell me that he remembers and he is sorry. I would be lying if I said that feeling wasn't there. I want this torture to end like a terrible movie cliché, where the boy runs after the girl in the rain. Or he drives to the airport to stop her from boarding the plane. There is that tiny part of me that wants the happy ending.

But my life is no movie.

I take a deep breath and keep walking. I'm not walking away from a future that might have been, because a future with him was never real. I hate him and he hates me. So proud, so arrogant, so disdainful – I don't need that. My kids need it even less. I will do my best to stay out of his way, and he will stay out of mine. Perfect.

My phone rings and I see the only Caller ID that would make me smile right now. My kids.

I answer the phone brightly, "Hey, guys, what's–"

"Mom! Olive is crying!" David interrupts.

My heart stops. "Pass me to her," I say quickly.

After a lot of shuffling noises, I hear Olive's small voice say, "Mommy…" She's crying.

"What's wrong pumpkin?" I ask her, quickly walking over to the group to say goodbye and get out of here.

"My head hurts, mommy!" she sobs.

William and that drama are completely forgotten as I focus on my baby, and figure out what she needs.

Before I can speak, I hear someone on the other end saying, "Give me the phone."

After some more shuffling sounds, James says, "Mom, Olive is just making it up, she doesn't have a headache. She just misses you."

"My head does hurt!" I hear Olive crying in the background.

"I'm heading over to take you home. Have Fanny give her some medicine in the mean time," I tell him.

"We're at the apartment already. Fanny brought us here because she got worried we were going to break something at her house," James informs me.

Classic Fanny. "OK, I'm on my way home, honey. Tell Olive not to worry."

I make my way over to Jane and Charles and whisper in Jane's ear, "Jane, I have to go. My baby is sick."

Her face turns to worry and she asks me, "Is she alright? Do you want me to come and check her?"

I shake my head. "It's probably only her sinuses."

"Oh, ok." She looks at me from under her eyelashes, "Did you?"

I know she's asking about my conversation with Richard, which was really with William. I nod my head because I know if I don't, she'll march on over and tell Richard herself. I hate lying more than anything, but I have to protect my little family. And I need more time to figure out what I'm going to do.

I say goodbye to Charles and give a quick wave to the rest. I run outside and get to my car as quickly as I can. Once inside, I let my tears fall. Ten years worth.

He hates me. Whether or not he remembers me, he certainly never wants to see me again. And he's never going to be able to fill that space in my kids where a daddy belongs.

I hate him. I hate that cold, callous, arrogant man.

I pull out of the lot and head toward home and my babies. _We don't need you William Darcy. We've been just fine without you, and this doesn't change a thing._

But I can't stop crying. There was a moment after I decided to tell him, when I thought he might even care. A moment when I saw my kids' future and it had William in it. I didn't want it for myself as much as I wanted it for James, David and Olive. I wanted Olive to be able to show off her daddy on "Pancake Day". I wanted James to be able to roll his eyes at his father whenever William attempted to help him in math. I wanted David to be able to pull a prank on him, and see William smile when he knows he was caught.

I wanted all of that.

I know, I know. It was stupid to even begin thinking that William might be able to fit into the life I'd constructed with the triplets. William's massive ego would never let it happen.

I get to the apartment and wipe my tears before entering. I open the door and David and Olive immediately swallow me into a hug attack. My children. The only good thing that came from meeting you, William. I can have no regrets about that.

They knock me over, and I fall to the floor with them laughing.

"Never leave us, mom!" David says as he laughs.

"We missed you!" Olive chimes in.

"Two hours, fifteen minutes, mom," James says as he wanders in, looking at us on the floor like we're idiots. I grab him and pull him into the pile and tickle him until he's laughing as loudly as the rest of us.

This is what I needed. I needed to hear their laughter and feel their love. Nothing else matters. Certainly not William Darcy.

"I'm leaving now," my mother says as she moves to the door.

I sit up and try to put on a serious face when I say, "Thanks, mom," but I fail miserably, and continue to roll on the ground laughing with my babies. Fanny gives us a look like we're crazy and leaves.

Yeah, we are crazy. But we are crazy together and that is the only thing that matters.

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><p>"Did you really have a headache?" I ask Olive when I finally get her settled and tuck her in bed.<p>

She giggles and shakes her head.

"You are an evil genius, you know," I tell her, laughing and giving her a goodnight kiss.

I head over to the boys' room. They made me stop tucking them in when they were 6, telling me they were too big for that. But they still want me to come in and tell them goodnight.

James face is illuminated with an iPad glow, making his blue eyes shine.

"Turn it off, James," I tell him.

He just grunts in response and ignores me.

I roll my eyes and sigh. "Where's your brother?"

"In the kitchen grabbing something to drink," he responds, his eyes never leaving the glowing tablet. I should never have bought it for him.

"OK, turn it off and go to sleep, you have school tomorrow," I tell James, just as the doorbell starts ringing.

Who is ringing my doorbell this late at night? It's probably Jane or Charlotte wanting to find out how my talk with Richard went. Great. Like I really need this right now…

"I'll get it!" I hear David yelling from the kitchen.

"No you won't!" I yell back. I've told them hundreds of times not to open the door without me, and yet I can hear David opening the door anyway. Sigh. Are any of my children going to listen to me tonight?

I start thinking of what story I can tell Jane or Charlotte when I call out to David, "Who is it?"

He doesn't answer me. _Why would he answer me, I'm just the mother…_

I try again, as I'm step into the entry, "David! Who is – oh, shit."

David is looking in awe at the visitor, who is looking back at him with his mouth open. Not wanting to miss anything, I hear James and Olive running down the hall, calling, "Who's at the door?"

"I think it's my father," David whispers.

Richard looks up, his green eyes full of confusion as he takes in the scene.

"Explanation," he says, looking me in the eye.

I scour my brain trying to think of what to say, because this is no gentle butterfly.

I open my mouth and all that comes out is, "Rabid-bear bite."

**END OF PART 1**

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><p><strong>AN: Thank you to all who Review, Follow, and Favorite. You are the reason why I continue writing even when I'm super busy. If it wasn't for you guys I would of stopped writing.**

**Now I understand why there is so many stories left unfinished. Its just so hard to continue writing when you have so many things to do. **

**Ok now about the story Richard just found about the kids...this is getting good...I cant wait to write the next chapter!**

**BTW this story will have four parts. This chapter is the end of Part 1 and the next Chapter will start with Part 2.**

**I love you all! **

**los amo a todos!**

**as always free virtual food! This time since I just drank sweet tea that's what ill be offering!**

**please review and tell me what you guys thought!**

**as always thanks to my beta Julianabr who is the best Beta!**


	10. John Hough's Ruined My Life

**A/N: Answering Sweet Tea questions:**

**Majority of the questions asked will be answered in this Chapter and the rest about why Darcy was so cold will be answered in the next.**

**And about my age. I consider myself old. But I have noticed that majority of the people who are in the Pride and Prejudice Fandom are older. That's why I love Pride and Prejudice Fan fiction. All of it is so well written and...just...wow. So now thinking about it I am young and I hope I get to learn a lot from everyone here. But going back to my age...lets just say I am considered an adult, but I can't legally drink... lets see who gets it right...bwwwaahhha (that's my evil laugh)**

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><p><em>Who is ringing my doorbell this late at night? It's probably Jane or Charlotte wanting to find out how my talk with Richard went. Great. Like I really need this right now…<em>

_"I'll get it!" I hear David yelling from the kitchen._

_"No you won't!" I yell back. I've told them hundreds of times not to open the door without me, and yet I can hear David opening the door anyway. Sigh. Are any of my children going to listen to me tonight?_

_I start thinking of what story I can tell Jane or Charlotte when I call out to David, "Who is it?"_

_He doesn't answer me. Why would he answer me, I'm just the mother…_

_I try again, as I'm step into the entry, "David! Who is – oh, shit."_

_David is looking in awe at the visitor, who is looking back at him with his mouth open. Not wanting to miss anything, I hear James and Olive running down the hall, calling, "Who's at the door?"_

_"I think it's my father," David whispers._

_Richard looks up, his green eyes full of confusion as he takes in the scene._

_"Explanation," he says, looking me in the eye._

_I scour my brain trying to think of what to say, because this is no gentle butterfly._

_I open my mouth and all that comes out is, "Rabid-bear bite."_

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><p><strong>PART 2<strong>

Sometimes, in those rare moments when I'm not busy and the triplets aren't yelling at me, I can lay back and relax in my pajamas. Preferably I'm relaxing while watching a John Hughes movie. I don't know what it is with John Hughes movies, but they are just so addicting. The notion that my high school crush would somehow realize that I was the love of his life – who wouldn't be addicted to that?

As a result, I grew up wishing that I was Samantha Baker or Claire and that one day I would meet my Jake Ryan or my John Bender (who would look suspiciously like a young Judd Nelson), and they would be The One. Everything would work out.

I think my problems began when I grew up, but I still hung on the to belief the John Hughes fairytale existed in real life. Which explains a little about how I ended up with William-freaking-Darcy. I still believed that the aloof guys had a personality deep down, and they were just waiting for me to reveal it.

Yeah, right. Thank you John Hughes. That's how I ended up with triplets and a broken heart at eighteen.

If my life were a John Hughes movie, in this moment where Richard is staring at my child and thinking David is his son, the plot would suddenly give me a reason so that I didn't have to admit that my kids' real dad is his personality-of-a-dead-turtle cousin, William Darcy. Unfortunately for me, I don't have a script and John Hughes is dead, and therefore is incapable of directing my life.

So, as I see it, I have two options at this point: Close the door on Richard and pretend he's not there. Or let him in and explain everything. If I go with the first option, I'm fairly certain Richard wouldn't leave it at that, and would pound on my door until I let him in. So, I guess Option #2 is what we're going with today.

Sigh.

I step into the hall and start closing the door, and say through the door, "David, take James and Olivia to your room. I'll just be in the hall for a minute."

"Who's at the door?" I hear Olivia ask David as I close the door.

I take a deep breath and turn around to face Richard, and brace for the oncoming sh*tstorm.

I see right away that this is not going to go well. The blood is completely drained from his face and he's bent over holding his chest, breathing in and out as if he was having an asthma attack.

"Richard, calm down," I say going to stand beside him as he tries to stop hyperventilating.

"What…" he pauses, trying to breathe, "…the hell…" he breathes, "…did I just see?"

I hesitate before answering. "Uh… that was my son, David," I answer truthfully.

He looks up at me as if I was the biggest idiot in the world.

I panic and blurt out, "During a hurricane, up to 90% of people who die end up dying from drowning." Stupid mouth.

Richard, unlike last time, doesn't laugh at my outburst and instead only glares at me.

"Ok…I'm not helping," I mumble.

"Now I know why your friends told me to come see you," Richard says in a voice completely without humor; something I thought I'd never hear from the affable man.

Damn. Charlotte and Jane couldn't just leave well enough alone. They must have checked up on me and asked Richard if we'd spoken, and then apparently made good on their threat and gave him my address.

As I stand in front of Richard, I wonder if I'm happy that it's only Richard standing out here. It could be worse. It could be Darcy.

Getting tired of waiting for me to speak, Richard yells, "You better start explain to me why there's a mini-Richard inside your damn apartment who thinks I'm his father!" He is mad – red face, flared nostrils, hands clenched at his sides.

OK, so he is really, really mad.

Of course he's angry – He thinks I hid his children from him. I Richard is this upset, I hate to imagine how William would react to this news.

I take a deep breath and say in my best 'mom' voice, "OK, I will tell you… but you have to calm down first." The 'mom' voice is a lifesaver when needing to diffuse stressful situations. I discovered it while trying to convince the triplets that water or milk is better than juice. It's also been invaluable in my career as a lawyer – with this voice I can discuss or debate my way out of almost anything.

_Voice, don't fail me now… _

Apparently 'the voice' is working its magic today, because Richard's breathing slows down and his face stops looking like a ripe tomato.

As I watch him calm down, he breaks eye contact and I see his entire face fall. Richard is one of those people who are made for joy – I knew that the moment I met him. But now, I see his whole demeanor turn so… sad. Just so sad.

"How much do you need?" he asks as he slides down the wall to sit on the floor of the hallway. He puts his face in his hands.

"Excuse me?" I ask, really confused.

"How much money do you need for them?" he asks, from behind his hands. He's deep in thought as he sits in the cold concrete floor.

"I don't need money."

"You need a better apartment, at least. Something bigger. I assume there's not enough room for all of you. I can deposit money to your account every week. I spend a lot of my time working and traveling, but for now I'll work on clearing my weekends for them." He stands up, his face full of conviction, and adds quickly, "I'll figure something else out to free more time in the long run."

His brain has gone full tilt into 'problem solver' mode. "I'll try to be there for school functions. I can't promise I'll be there for every single one of them, but I'm pretty sure I can rearrange enough to be there for most of them."

I sit there and just stare at him, waiting for my brain to catch up.

_He really thinks the triplets are his._

He starts chuckling sourly and shakes his head, "Now I know why your sister was asking me all those questions. I guess that asking Mary for a date is out of the question... No wonder I got that total 'hateness' vibe off of the three of them." He starts combing his fingers through his dark hair and staring into my face. "Damn. So you knew who I was, princess? I don't remember you, but then again, I spent my younger years so drunk that I don't remember half the things I did."

"They're not yours," I tell him. The idea of help does sound appealing, but I won't make him think he's the father just for my convenience.

He starts laughing, still devoid of any humor. "I get why you wouldn't tell me about them for these past… what… ten years but now that I know, I won't let you keep them away from me," he says, with his anger mounting. "They. Are. Mine."

"No," I reply. "They. Are. **Not**. Yours."

"He looks exactly like me! Anyone who saw him could tell you that!"

I shake my head again. "I'm telling you, they are not yours."

"Then who the hell are they?!" he yells, his hands in the air, exasperated.

I hesitate before speaking. "Remember when we first met, and you told me you always kept your promises?"

"I don't know how that is relevant in this –" he starts to say.

"Just answer the question," I interrupt.

"Yes, I remember, but I don't see ho-"

I interrupt him again, "Were you telling the truth when you said that? If I made you promise not to say anything about what I'm about to show you, would you keep the promise?"

"Of course I would. Once I give my word, that's it."

I nod my head towards my apartment. "What I'm about to show you will answer all your questions, but you have to promise not to say anything to anyone – especially not… not to their father. Do you promise?"

"I **am** the father," he says, still convinced that somewhere along the line we hooked up and I got knocked up. How blurry must his misspent youth be if he can't remember that we've never slept together?

"Just promise me," I repeat.

He sighs. "I promise."

I nod my head and turn the doorknob slowly, giving the kids time to run back to their room and pretend they weren't on the other side of the door, spying. As if they'd actually gone to their rooms when I asked them to. I know my people.

I lead him into the apartment, my heart beating faster and faster as I take each step deeper into the underworld… okay, not underworld, but I know all hell will break loose when Richard sees Olive and James, adds that to David and comes up 'Darcy'.

"How big is your place?" he asks, as he looks around my tiny apartment. I can tell he thinks it's small. And it is small. Walk two steps through the door and you're already in the living room, a few more steps and you're in the kitchen.

"Three bedrooms," I say, not wanting to have this conversation.

"You need something bigger," he says.

_No kidding,_ I think. "I can't afford anything bigger." And, honestly, I can't. All my money goes to pay my student loans, food, utilities… The list goes on and on. "But we're fine here," I add.

"Don't worry, I'll get you something bigger," he says, still looking around. "I won't have my kids squished in and living on top of each other."

I roll my eyes. If Richard is like this, I would hate to see Darcy. "We're fine like we are. It's only the four of us." I should have stopped there, but of course my filter-less mouth continues, "You should have seen us when I was still in school, and we lived with my two sisters and Charlotte. Now that was hard."

He face instantly transforms; the look of contrition is almost overwhelming. "I'm sorry, Liz… If I would've known…"

I shake my head, wanting to relieve his unnecessary guilt. "Don't worry about it. Really. What's past is past, and we made it through alright." We're outside of James and David's room, when I stop before I turn the knob. "You will keep your promise, and not say anything to anyone?"

He nods his head.

I close my eyes and breathe in before I let him inside.

The triplets are all sitting in the floor as if they've been reading the whole time.

Yeah, right. As if.

They all look up at the same time and stare at Richard. David and James look at him with ten years of bottled-up hate. Olivia just looks up in awe and adoration.

"Guys, this is Richard. He's not your father," I tell them quickly. I don't know if they don't hear me or just don't believe me, but their demeanor doesn't change. Considering how much they look like him, I don't know if I would believe me either.

I decide to go with Olive first. At least she's not shooting daggers out of her eyes. "This is Olivia," I tell Richard. I motion for her to stand up and come towards me.

I look at Richard to see if he's figured out who their real father is. Olive and James look so much like William; there is no way he doesn't get it.

Richards's eyes look like they're about to fall out of his head. The way he stares at her first, then James and David again, I know all of his questions about their paternity are answered.

"You look like a prince," Olive whispers reverently. She's right. Richard is standing there, still in his tux and looking very handsome – I can see why Olive would think he just stepped out of a fairytale.

Then Olive's eyes become teary as she stares up at him. "I was wrong," she says softly, "they're green." Suddenly, she throws herself at him, enveloping him in a hug that almost knocks him over. "But I was right that you would come back for us! James and David said you wouldn't, Daddy, but I just knew you would!" she says crying, burying her face in his chest and wetting his shirt with her tears.

Richard doesn't know what to do. I doubt he's had much experience with children. After a moment he just closes his eyes and hugs her back.

Tears escape my eyes as I see the scene in front of me.

_What the hell have you done, Elizabeth Bennet?_

Olive steps back from the embrace, but still looks up at him in adoration.

"Olive, honey," I say gently, "he's not your daddy."

She ignores me, still caught up in the fantasy that her father has come back for her, and her Happily Ever After has come true. This is just what I wanted to avoid. I would do anything to protect her from the disappointment when she meets Darcy, her real father, who couldn't care less.

She smiles as she looks up at him. Richard must notice she's craning her neck to see him, so he kneels down to her level.

"Hi. I'm Richard Fitzwilliam, and its a pleasure to meet you, Olivia," He says, his eyes full of love for Olive. Of course he would feel affection. They are family, after all.

She looks down at her hands and blushes. Finally realizing how forward she's been, she steps back looking very bashful and embarrassed.

Richard chuckles. "Just as shy as her daddy," he whispers under his breath.

"You can call me Olive," she says quietly, "like the tree." She looks like she wants to say something else, but she hesitates – opening her mouth, and then closing it again. She finally says, "At the end of books, the handsome prince always saves the princess." She shyly grabs one of my hands and squeezes it. I'm not sure if she thinks I'm the princess or she is.

He smiles a warm, friendly smile at her as he stands up and faces the boys. "You must be David and James." Richard extends his hand for a handshake.

The boys ignore his hand and keep dishing out the evil eye, dislike radiating out of them.

"Look," James says, taking a step forward, "we don't need you. We haven't needed you for the last ten years, so we don't need you now." He pauses for that to sink in for a minute. "If you've only come back to screw my mother, I have some bad news for you – she's got us to protect her from you this time."

"JAMES!" I yell, embarrassed by what he just said.

Richard just mumbles, "Darcy protectiveness and loyalty, right there…"

"I'd advise you to leave," David adds, pulling up to be as tall and intimidating as his ten-year-old body can manage.

"No!" Olive cries. She moves to stand between Richard and her brothers. "He's staying!" she tells them, brooking no opposition.

"He abandoned us!" David and James scream back in unison.

"Guys! He's NOT your father!" I scream, loudly enough to get their attention over the shouting.

All three turn around and look at me.

"He's not your father," I repeat again, quietly this time.

"How can he not be my father? He looks exactly like me!" David asks as he stares at Richard.

"I'm not your father, but we're related… I'm your dad's cousin, which makes me your cousin, too," Richard tells him.

"That's pathetic!" James snorts, and turns to his siblings. "He's making it up so he doesn't have to deal with us!"

"William James Bennet, apologize right now!" I tell him firmly. Richard can be a lot of things but he is not the one James should be calling pathetic.

"William? You named him William?" Richard chuckles.

_Crap. I just had to name him William. I shouldn't have named him William. _

I ignore Richard's question.

"Why should I apologize to the man who abandoned us?" James yells back at me.

"Whoa, there, Junior! First of all, don't yell at your momma. She's too young to be getting wrinkles," Richard tells him as he walks to stand in front of him. "Secondly, you're as charming as your old man," laughing at his own joke. "And thirdly, William? Really?" he says looking up at me.

I ignore Richard again, look at James and say, "And fourthly, he's not your dad."

"Yeah. What your mom said. I'm really not your dad," Richard pipes up.

Everything quiets for a moment as the three finally believe that Richard is not their absent father.

Olive starts crying again. "So if you're not my dad, then where is my dad?" she sobs.

Richard looks to me, clearly wanting me to field this one. I open my mouth but nothing comes out.

Richard sighs. "He's… busy right now," he tells her, "but he will come. I don't know when, but he will. I promise." Richard punctuates this with the stink-eye in my direction.

"Did he send you?" David asks, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He might finally believe Richard's not his father, but David wants to be clear he's still not off the hook.

Richard must know how pivotal this question is because he hesitates before answering. If he says, "Yes," then James and David will hate Richard for doing their father's dirty-work. If he says, "No," it will make it a little easier for Richard, but it will also serve as proof to them that their father doesn't care. In either case, I realize, whenever they do meet Darcy (and Richard is making it clear to me that they will), it is going to be an uphill climb for him. The boys do not forgive easily.

Richard finally admits, "No, he didn't send me, but –"

I interrupt before he tells them something about William, "Look, kids, Richard needs to go but –"

Shooting the stink-eye at me again, Richard interrupts me in return. "…but I'll see you tomorrow after school. What do you think?" he asks them.

_Unh-uh. I don't think so. _

Little does he know we'll be at their dentist appointment, so we won't be home after school. Ha!

Then Olive helpfully points out, "We have a dentist appointment tomorrow but maybe you can come with us! It's at 6 and we usually leave from here at 5:30." She motions for him to come down for a hug.

Well, damn. So much for my plan.

"I would love that, Acacia," he tells her as she wraps her arms around his neck.

After the hug, he stands and bows over her hand. "It was a real pleasure to make your acquaintance, Princess Willow," he says, faking an English accent.

She starts giggling. "My name is 'Olivia' or 'Olive' like the tree, not 'Willow', silly," she says smiling from ear to ear.

Richard smiles, but then warily moves over to the stern looking James and David. He puts his arms up in a mock protective stance. "Wow, you guys make me feel like I'm being attacked on both sides. I need a cover system!" he says, laughing nervously.

He must speak the international language of 'Boy' because their look resembles Olive's awe and adoration, and David asks, "You play video games?"

"When I have some free time."

I have no idea how they gleaned that information from Richard's words… and, honestly, do I really want to know?

"What's your username?" James asks.

"FitzTheKing21." At this, the boys' eyes pop out of their heads.

"No way…" David intones.

"So cool…" James whispers.

"You're my hero –"

"I sent you a request –"

"You have to let us play with you –"

"OK, what are you guys talking about?" I finally ask because now things are just getting weird. Two seconds ago my boys were ready to skin Richard alive, and now they're telling him he's their hero?

"Mom, please don't be embarrassing! We are standing in front of a video game legend!" David informs me.

"Legend?" I stare at Richard and the boys, dumbfounded. "Listen, you know what? I don't even want to know… Kids, let's let Richard go. You'll see him tomorrow." I start pushing Richard out of the room and down the hall.

"Promise you'll play with us tomorrow?" David calls after him.

"Absolutely!" Richard assures them with a smile.

"Bye, Richard," Olive says, as we head outside of the apartment.

"Bye, Cedar," he responds as Olive giggles.

I quickly shut the apartment door behind me, and walk Richard out to the parking lot. We get outside and I brace myself for the sh*tstorm to come.

He leans against the wall, looks down and shakes his head – like he can't quite grasp what just happened. After some minutes he finally speaks. "I can't believe I just promised Darcy's sons I would play video games with them tomorrow," he whispers. His voice is raspy as if he is trying not to cry.

"Richard, I can explain," I lift my hand to his arm trying to console him. He looks at my hand and then up at me and I realize I have grossly misread him. He's not going to cry. He's trying to control his fury.

"Then start explaining, GOD DAMN IT!" he shouts. He turns away from me briefly, and then turns back; he hurls the questions at me one after the other, "Explain to me why you are hiding three Darcys in your house! Explain to me why you never told my cousin he is a father. Explain to me how you even met Will. Were you after his money? But if it was about money, why did you hide them from him? Was it revenge? What did he do to make you so mad that you would keep his children from him?!" he pauses for a moment and looks at me. "Oh… that's it, isn't it?"

I can see the gears in his FBI trained mind spinning, trying to piece it together.

He lowers his voice, but keeps me pinned with his glare, "You saw him yesterday with Charles, so you thought you'd get all dressed up tonight and… what?" Richard starts pacing back and forth, barely registering my presence as he works this out in his head. "You both acted like strangers, so something really big must have happened. Obviously, the kids don't know about him. They think he abandoned them… But I know Darcy would never, ever abandon his children… So he doesn't know." He stops, looks at me again. "So what made you keep this from him?"

"Richard, your cousin wants nothing to do with me."

"Sorry, princess. I know my cousin better than I know myself and I don't believe you. If there is one thing he holds above all else, it is his love and sense to duty to his family."

I plead with him, "Trust me, I was going to tell him tonight. I didn't know he would be there, but then he was… That's why I asked you to get him for me; I was going to tell him. But he made it very clear that he wanted nothing to do with me, so I ju–"

"You are an unbelievably selfish bitch, you know that?!" he interrupts. "One big bitch."

"You don't know me and have no idea what I've gone through. You–"

He interrupts me again. "Do you have any idea what my cousin has gone through? You stand here and give me excuses about how he spurned you in some way, so that's why you didn't tell him?! Did that hurt your little feelings? DID IT!?"

My anger is boiling. _He has __NO__ idea how much time I spent crying over his cousin! Or the fact that I was pregnant at eighteen. Or how I ended up getting kicked out of __my house__ because his cousin knocked me up and __deserted__ me!_

Richard barrels on. "Oh, I totally understand your decision not to tell him," he says sarcastically. "I would do the same thing if I were a selfish bitch like you!" He continues to pace angrily as he dives in to yell at me again. "Yeah, little Olive doesn't really need to be walked down the aisle by her father on her wedding day! She clearly doesn't miss having a father in her life! And David and James are just fine without their father to help them through puberty!… I mean, your feelings were hurt?!" He comes to tower in front me, incredulous; his spit hitting my face as he yells, "You only, ONLY thought about yourself and spared not one care for your children and my cousin! How can you not tell him that he's a FUCKING FATHER?!"

_He has NO idea what we've gone through! He has NO idea how badly his cousin has treated me. He has NO right to be yelling at me. NO RIGHT!_

That's when I slap him… hard.

He holds his hand to his cheek and glares at me, but doesn't stop. "I see my cousin every day, working his ass off – dawn to midnight – to come home to an empty house, while you come home every night to a house full of laughter and children. That's just not right."

"You were the one who told me he hates children!" I scream at him.

"Random children! I didn't mean he would hate his own children!" he yells back.

Things are quiet for a moment. I don't respond to him as I try to control my anger. He paces further down the sidewalk, trying to do the same thing I assume.

He's wrong. Wrong about me and wrong about his cousin. This wasn't about me being selfish. I was protecting my children. If I were only thinking about myself, I would have gone the easy route and told him – no question, I could have used the help and the money. But, no, I thought of my children first. It wouldn't be worth all the money in the world to give them a father who would desert them. It's better to have no father, than a father who just doesn't care.

"They look so much like him," Richard finally says, now more softly. "David and James look like every picture of the two of us growing up." He chuckles lightly. "And sweet Olive….wow. It's like Willy was reborn a girl." He sighs.

Minutes go by as we both get lost in our thoughts.

Richard's right. They do all look like him. Even David. They have the same nose. Richard has it, too.

"I have to go. I have a lot to think about. You do, too," he says tiredly.

"Please don't tell him. Don't tell anyone. You promised me," I remind him as he walks out to his car.

He turns around, "Don't worry, I won't tell him," he replies softly, with a sad smile on his face.

"Thank you," I say smiling back.

"I won't tell him, because you will."

Damn.

* * *

><p>"Okay, let's go," I tell the three of them.<p>

"He's coming," Olive says stubbornly, not moving from the couch.

"We told him 5:30 and he's late. Maybe something came up and he couldn't come," I tell her. He seemed pretty mad yesterday, and I just can't bear to have them wait for him and then not have him show.

"Mom, it's 5:31, he's only a minute late," James calls from the kitchen. "He'll show."

The doorbell rings.

Damn.

"He's here!" Olive yells excitedly, leaping from the couch to the door. She quickly opens the door and throws herself at Richard in a huge hug.

"Nice to see you too, Oak!" he laughs as he returns her embrace. Olive fakes annoyance at being called the wrong name, but I can tell she secretly loves the idea of him calling her different tree names. It's like their 'thing'. David and James give Richard a fist bump and a high five, respectively, and we make our way out to the car.

I'm trying to keep my cool, and be happy that he didn't disappoint them. But the things he said to me yesterday still hurt. The four of them start chattering away about their day at school. Something about Matt and Robert, and how Olive doesn't like them much. I tune out the particulars and idly wonder if this is what a typical family would look like on their way to the dentist.

I wave them all to the waiting room couches while I sign the kids in. Olive recognizes two boys on the other side of the room.

"Oh! Those are the boys I was talking about. That's Robert and Matt over there," I hear Olive telling Richard as I sit down. I look to where she's looking and see two blonde boys whispering to each other, and stealing glances in our direction. "They're cousins and I hate them," she whispers.

"Why?" I hear Richard ask.

"Robert's a bully, and Olive hates Matt because he gets better grades then her," David explains as he snickers.

"And they go to your school?" Richard asks. The kids told him all about their school for gifted on the way over.

"Yeah, they're both science geniuses," David says.

"That's so easy!" James tells a girl sitting next to him. "The answer is 36. Are you in special ed. or something?"

"James! Not nice!" I whisper harshly.

He looks up at me, startled; as if he can't imagine why I would be mad. "Mom, she's learning how to tell the area of a triangle. A triangle! I learned that when I was three. This is toddler homework!" He turns back to the girl in utter disbelief, "How can you be struggling with it? You're my age!" He truly can't fathom the issue.

The girl looks like she's about to cry.

Richard quickly turns to the girl and apologizes to her and her mom. He turns back to James and chuckles, "Wow, James, you sure do have a way with women. Just like your old man."

"You know," James tells Richard, "I used to think David was dumb until my mom made me socialize with other children. Then I noticed he wasn't stupid at all!"

I want to laugh. It was true. When they were little, James was constantly after me to have David tested. Then they went to kindergarten and hung out with some 'normal' kids.

"They're more than a bit advanced for their age," I inform Richard.

He looks over at Olive, who's reading George Orwell's _Animal Farm_. "Hey, can I see the pictures of the piggies. I always loved piggies. Is Old MacDonald in it?" Richard asks Olive in all sincerity. Poor man.

She gives Richard a quizzical look. "Noooo… There are no pictures and no Old MacDonald. It is about a pig named Napoleon, though," she says slowly.

"Oh! Does Napoleon go on adventures? Is that the one with the spider?" Richard tries so hard. He really does.

"No, you're thinking of _Charlotte's Web_."

David, thinking Richard is kidding about all of this, laughs and says, "You're funny!"

James, always wanting to be 'helpful' (see example of crying girl above), tells him, "The book is a political satire, dealing with the events that led up to the Russian Revolution and then through the Stalin era."

"Oh. Right. I knew that," Richard says, trying to look cool but coming off a little embarrassed.

James, who perceives that Richard knows no such thing, continues, "It uses farm animals to depict the different societal and political forces." He sighs, looking at Richard's confusion, and adds, "It's a metaphor."

I lean over to Richard, smiling and proud of my kids, "I told you. They're a little advanced." I lean my head back and close my eyes for a minute. I haven't stopped going since I woke up this morning. I got the kids up and shuttled them to school. Then I made a quick market run, so I would have some food in the house for dinner. After getting back and putting it all away, I rushed over to my court date. Spent all day in court with a judge, I swear… who… talks… so… slowly… I wanted to die. I rush from there to pick up the kids from their after school program, feed them something quick and then get them here to the dentist, so their teeth don't fall out.

Just a typical, easy day.

Listening to the quiet conversation between Richard and Olive is lulling me to sleep. She hasn't left his side since he walked in my door. She's telling him more about the plot of the book, its cultural significance and what makes it still relevant today. Richard just listens patiently and asks small questions here and there.

The nurse comes to call the triplets in, and I rouse myself to stand up and go in with them. Olive is a little scared of the dentist because they had to stick a needle in her gums last time. But I know I need to stay and talk to Richard some more. Maybe in a crowded waiting room, he won't yell at me.

"Guys, go ahead. I'll just wait out here with Richard," I tell them. The boys go in quickly, but I have to assure Olive that there are no needles this time before she goes back.

"You don't read much, do you?" I ask him as I sit down again.

"Nope," he chuckles. "Not if I can help it."

We sit there quietly for some minutes until Richard speaks again. "They are really special children."

"Yeah," I say smiling, "that's one way to put it."

"They are so much like Darcy, it's scary." He shakes his head in amazement.

I decide to ask him the question that has kept me awake all night, "You will keep your promise… right?"

"Yes. I always keep my promises. Plus, this is something I think should come from you," he looks over at me, "and I will make sure that it does." He looks down at his hands for a minute and sighs. "I also think you need to figure out a way to change their minds about him before he's faced with all that hate and anger from the boys. It's not good for any of them, my cousin included."

I nod my head. I know I will have to tell Darcy soon. And I know that I have to get David and James to think a bit more like Olive on the father issue. We're both quiet for a few minutes, listening to the hum of the waiting room.

"Sorry about all the yelling yesterday," he finally says. "I really shouldn't have gone off on you like that. I know I wasn't being very fair." He stops for a moment. "I was just really shocked and upset. There aren't very many Darcys left, and to find you are hiding three of them from Will and his sister… I reacted badly. I'm really sorry." He really looks like he means it.

"What do you mean 'There aren't many Darcys left'?"

"Both of his parents are gone. It's been just him and Georgie, his sister, for a long time."

I quietly take that in.

"How'd you meet my cousin anyways?"

I sigh loudly and close my eyes hoping he'll give me a break on that one for now. I am way too tired for that story.

Realizing that I'm dodging the question, he continues, "Darcy has always been an introvert so I know he doesn't date a lot. And when he does go out, he's pretty private about it, so I've only known very few of the women he's gone out with." I think he's not really talking to me, but just thinking out loud with that 'FBI brain' working. "Out of those very few there's only been one, really, he thought he was in love with… who made him actually think he might want to settle down with and have a family."

_What_?!

This makes me open my eyes and pay more attention. I'm hoping Richard will tell me more about this 'mystery woman' who pierced the Darcy ego. Part of me is jealous of whoever she was. I mean, here I am raising Darcy's children – feeding them, clothing them, loving them and trying to make them good people. I would not trade them for the world, but being a mom by yourself is not an easy job. And the whole time I'm changing diapers, keeping them from bickering in the car while I'm driving, and wiping the snot from their noses, Darcy is out there with some woman thinking about starting a family.

_Well, hit me over the head with the irony stick._

"It was some years back… I never met her." Richard chuckles, "For a while there we teased him that she didn't exist… but she was a big deal for him." He looks at me thoughtfully for a minute, before we drift back to silence.

I wonder for a moment. Could it have been me? I won't lie, some part of me wants it to be true – that maybe I meant something to him.

Quietly I ask, "How'd they meet?" I try to act like I'm not dying to know the answer. "What was her name?"

He scrunches up his face, trying to remember. "I don't remember… something with and 'E'… Elena... Eleanor… Emily, maybe… something like that."

_Close, but no cigar. _

I close my eyes so Richard won't see the disappointment in them.

He starts laughing to himself again. "This whole thing is just surreal. You have to know, out of the two of us, I am definitely the one most likely to have knocked a girl up in my misspent youth. Huh, who would have thought… Darcy…" He shakes his head. "God! I wish I could tell someone!" he says, still laughing.

"But you won't right?" I ask, making sure he won't tell anyone.

"Of course not. Like I said, you will."

And with his confirmation, I lay my head back again and quickly drift to sleep.

Mommy 101: Sleep when you can.

* * *

><p>"…and then the teacher picked Matt, because Matt is her favorite. Even though I totally knew the answer! Life is so unfair!" Olive tells Richard. They're chatting about her day while crushing David and James in some video game.<p>

"Ahh, man! I'm on Richard's team next game!" screams David as he tries his best to blow alien life off the face of the planet. "Die, you alien scum!"

Don't get judgey – video games build hand-eye coordination. Um… yeah…

We've been home for an hour and Richard's still here playing and hanging out with the triplets. First they talked about school, their interests and other basic things, while Richard deftly avoided answering questions about their father. Then Richard and David got into a lively debate about the development of Nintendo's _Mario_ franchise, from _Donkey Kong_ through _Super Mario Galaxy 2_. Olive contributed to the discussion by trying to draw parallels between Mario's backstory and the plot of _Animal Farm_. While James engaged Richard in a discussion of how accurately the laws of physics were followed in the original _Mario Kart._

I told you. My kids are a little advanced.

I'm sitting back, watching them from the doorway. They are all rolling around on the floor, laughing hysterically at something funny Richard just did. My kids look so happy in this moment. I mean, they've always been pretty happy kids, but seeing them in my home with this man they met yesterday – it's different somehow.

I

Knew

In

That

Moment

My

Life

Had

Changed

* * *

><p><strong>AN: THANK YOU THANK YOU TO MY BETA! Julianabr! She is amazing! And so patient with me!**

**Thank you to all who keep reading my rambles and keep favoriting it and reviewing...it means so much to me!**

**I feel like I'm giving an awards thank you speech! lol**

**But seriously thank you to everyone!**

**Please review and tell me what you think of this Chapter.**

**As always the Free virtual Food I'm giving out is Taco Bell Tacos! I love Taco Bell...**

**Oh and also I know everyone is going to have questions about why Richard isn't going to tell Darcy. He's reasons were kind of mentioned here. But in the next Chapter you will definitely see why.**


	11. My Cousin The Annoying Bastard

**A/N: I know I haven't updated in a while. This chapter is actually half a chapter. This chapter was suppose to have had Darcy's and Elizabeth's point of view but the other half isn't ready so my beta recommended just to update Darcy's point of view.**

**Answering Team Sweet Tea Questions:**

**WHEN WILL DARCY FIND OUT?: I want this story to be around 20 chapters. I feel like if a story has around 30 or 40 chapters that story better have a plot that can uphold those 30 or 40 chapters. I feel like if a story is that long it just becomes repetitive and boring. That's my opinion. I've read stories that are 40 chapters long and are pretty good but majority of the times they are just long and boring. So I don't want to bore you guys with my story. Plus I don't think my story has enough plot to last for 40 chapters. This is chapter 12 so were almost to the part were Darcy finds out. **

**WHY DIDNT LIZZY TELL RICHARD OF HOW SHE MET DARCY?: Lizzie will tell him in the next chapter...or sort of tell him the lizzie way.**

**And now about my age. Some people were saying 21. **

**In united states the age to legally drink is 21 and the age you're legally an adult is I'm not 21 because I cant drink legally yet. So I'm between the ages of 18-20.**

**Big thanks to my Beta Julianabr for still being patient with me and my late updates.**

**Actually I would like to thank all the Betas out there. Because of them we can read without getting headaches. Also I was noticing that Betas get to read chapters before anyone else does but they get to read the unpolished version. Which sucks. And their job is much more difficult if they are helping people with terrible grammar as mine. But in my defense I know three languages so I get confused. Sometimes ill just randomly start speaking Portuguese or Spanish and people just look at me as if I'm crazy. Then I remember that I'm not speaking English. All the languages get confused in my head.**

**Thanks to everyone who still reads my story.**

**Gracias a todos**

**Muito obrigado a todos**

* * *

><p>Darcy POV<p>

I watch her leave the party because I cannot look anywhere else. Her white dress clings to her lovely form, the open back revealing an expanse of glorious, smooth skin. The memories of that night on the roof flood into my consciousness again, as they have so often lately.

Being on the balcony with her, hearing the sounds of the city, feeling the night air on our skin – I could not but be transported to that night in London. That perfect night.

_How could she not remember? _

I have asked myself this question a thousand times since I saw her that afternoon with Charles.

But it was time to stop.

The fact was, she did not remember.

The fact was, she wanted nothing to do with me.

The fact was, I had to stop.

I have little idea of what I actually said to her on the balcony. Some philosophical nonsense about regrets and dead stars. I could not stay out there and listen to how much hatred she had for me, so I launched a preemptive strike and, before she could respond, I walked back into the party. I could not be alone with her anymore.

As I'm striding back to the party, a tiny, tiny part of me wants her to stop me. To pull me into her arms and tell me that she remembers and she is sorry. I would be lying if I said that feeling wasn't there. I want this torture to end like a terrible movie cliché, where the girl runs after the boy in the rain. Or she drives to the airport to stop him from boarding the plane. There is that tiny part of me that wants the happy ending.

But my life is no movie.

Before I know what's happening, I watch her impossibly long legs stride purposefully across the room and I count the steps of the most magnificent woman I have ever known, as she walks out the door and out of my life.

I take a deep breath and walk numbly over to Richard, who's in conversation with Elizabeth's sister. She looks kind of bored and a little annoyed at him, but he is completely oblivious. It's kind of an odd scene because she is not the type of woman he usually gravitates to. He is all about the obvious beauties. You know, like the ones you find in men's magazines. Brains and personality need not apply.

Mary fits none of the categories Richard has always deemed necessary in a woman, and yet he is showing all the signs of being interested in her.

"I love science!" Richard says excitedly.

Liar. Richard hates science.

"Really," she deadpans, "what's your favorite thing about it?"

He hesitates, probably trying desperately to think of something he might remember from his school days. "Gravity!" he blurts. "What's not to like!" He kind of shuffles and laughs nervously.

I want to slap myself. That is just the stupidest thing he has ever said. Well, I think I want to slap him more. Is he trying to flirt? He is being more awkward with her than I usually am with women. And that is hard to do.

One look at the face Mary is making, and it's clear she is looking for any reason to escape.

And yet, Richard presses on.

"Go, Gravity!" he says, making noises that sound suspiciously like giggling. I have never seen my player cousin act this way before. He usually has quite a bit more game.

I get hit with a wave of fear that this is what I must look like talking to Elizabeth. I cannot stay and watch this anymore.

I have to leave. Now.

"Richard," I say, pulling his attention for a moment. "I'm leaving."

"What? Why? Did you already talk to Elizabeth? I told her she could find you on the balcony," Richard babbles stupidly. "Did she already tell you how much she hates you?" he tells me, slapping me on the back.

At this, Mary's eyes go big, suddenly interested in what Richard is saying. "Wait… What? Lizzie hates him?" she asks Richard. Then she turns to me and asks, "She talked to you? Lizzy just talked to you?" She looks a little confused.

"Oh, yeah, she can't stand him," Richard responds, happy for finally having her attention. "I think it's because he called her ugly. My stupid cousin really needs to up his game."

I ignore Richard and his implications. "Yes, we just spoke," I answer, a little curious about why this seems so gravely important to her.

Her eyes are still big as she looks at the wall, lost in thought. I look into her eyes and I can almost see the thousands of ideas going through her head, until finally she makes an O shape with her mouth. Understanding shows in her face, and she looks at me as if she was meeting me for the first time.

"Oh…" is all she says as she grabs her jacket and runs out the door.

Weird girl. But I guess I'm not really one to talk.

"I'm leaving," I say again, turning my attention back to my cousin.

"Yeah, I'm going to leave soon, too," Richard nods to the door where Elizabeth's sister just left. "That was my chance for having any kind of good night tonight."

"She's not really your usual type," I tell my cousin honestly.

"Yeah, she's not… But my New Year's resolution is to only sleep with smart women," he says simply.

"You're disgusting," I tell him. He laughs and goes to the bar, maybe to see if he can change his luck.

I make my way outside and just start walking.

As much as I want to, I cannot keep my thoughts away from Elizabeth. Being on the balcony with her, having her so close, smelling her scent – triggered memories of her, of us, that hit me with the force of a tsunami. I remember the smell of the hot chocolate she drank at the café every morning. My ears can almost hear the splash of water and her contagious giggle when she would jump in a puddle with the joy of a little girl. I remember her desire to ruffle my feathers, which she took on as a sacred duty.

I cannot shut the memories out.

Kisses. Her kisses are a curse to me. Having her so close, looking out at the night, it took everything I had to keep my lips from finding hers.

And in those minutes I spent with her out there, as memories upon memories flooded through me, all I wanted was for her to just mention _something_ – anything – to show that she held any of those thousands of memories in her heart. I desperately waited for just one small sign she remembered me – that she remembered the week we lost ourselves in each other.

How could it have affected me so strongly, and yet for her it does not stir even one memory?

_I __am__ a dead star. _

My light died when I lost her. What appears to be William Darcy is not really here. What I live now, what I have lived for so long, is not a life. I need to move on. I must forget her.

I will forget her.

I walk on, losing myself in the mass of people in the crowded city. All these people, each with their own story to tell.

I start counting the people who pass by me. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5… I wonder who they are. Do they have someone waiting for them at home? Or are they alone like me? 10, 11, 12, 13, 14… Are they someone important? Does someone miss them? 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25… Or are they just another lost person walking the streets of the city, hoping to become even more lost.

She had found me that morning in the café. She was the first woman who didn't see me as a number. She saw me. She found me.

Or, at least that's what I thought she saw.

Forget, William. Forget.

Is there no one out there who will find me again? 44, 45, 46, 47, 48… Find me, not William Darcy. 60, 61, 62, 63, 64… William, just William. 84, 85, 86, 87, 88…

I stop and realize my feet have taken me to the Pemberley building. I look up at its magnificence, all 70 stories, lit up against the skyline. It's not even our headquarters, just our presence in Manhattan. The presence I created when I came here to look for her. It is breathtakingly beautiful and fills me with pride. This is what my hard work made. This is what sleepless nights made. This is what grew from my blood, my sweat, my tears.

Looking at the Pemberley building – my building – I am reminded of the family legacy I have to uphold. There is more work to do. And no woman should distract me.

I walk through the door into the mostly empty building. Everyone has gone home for the night. But this is my home. I give a small wave to the night concierge on duty.

"Welcome back, John. And congratulations." I shake his hand and ask, "How is married life?"

"Thank you, Mr. Darcy." A smile overtakes his face. "My little missus is a wonder! I'm a lucky man, Mr. Darcy, a lucky man… Can I do anything for you tonight?"

"No, thank you. I'm just going up to finish a few things. You have a good night."

"You too, Mr. Darcy."

I am happy for John. He is a good man, and I can't begrudge him his happiness. I may still be lost, but at least he has been found.

I take the elevator to the top, counting as the elevator dings past each floor. 66… 67… 68… 69… 70… The doors open and I walk out onto the Executive Floor. Most of the lights are off, all is quiet.

I am glad for it. There has been too much noise in my head today. I am most content when I am surrounded by silence. Where there is nothing to distract me. Where there is only me, and what my mind can do.

I walk into my office, sit behind my desk and breathe a sigh of relief. I've got new design specs to review, new promotion and recycling deals to negotiate. I've got new problems to be solved. I lose myself immediately in my numbers.

Georgie is wrong. Numbers are far better companions than people. At least for tonight.

I am so absorbed, I don't notice when Richard comes into my office. He is standing there soaking wet, watching me. I look outside the window and notice it's raining.

"What the hell?" I hurl the question at my cousin, and wave to the puddle accumulating at his feet.

He doesn't answer, but instead comes closer and envelops me in a huge bear hug. He gets me all wet, but I notice his eyes are red and puffy, like he's been crying.

"What happened?" I ask him more gently. I have never seen Richard cry. Not even as children. Something big has happened.

He steps back and stares at my face. My blue eyes meeting his green. "I need some advice, Darce… I have a friend," he says hesitantly, "who just shared something big with me. Very big. Before I knew what it was, I promised I wouldn't tell anyone…" His earnest gaze continues to examine my face. "But now that I know, I feel like there are people I should tell. I'm not sure what to do. What should I do?"

Richard never asks for my opinion. I take a minute to collect my thoughts. Whatever this is, whatever is contorting his usually genial face into confusion, he is asking me a very serious question and he needs a very serious answer.

"Is anyone in danger? Does it concern something illegal?" I ask, not wanting his moral code to land him in jail.

He shakes his head. "No. It's nothing bad. It's actually something really good. I think when my friend finally does reveal the secret, it will make a lot of people very happy." He pauses for a moment. "At first, some people might be mad, but I know this secret will bring great happiness in the end." He smiles, still looking deeply into my eyes.

"So, your friend is thinking about telling people this secret, but just not now?" I ask.

He nods his head. I relax. This advice I can handle. If I had a secret, I would want people to respect my decision of when I release it. Especially if they gave their word.

"Let you friend reveal the information when he or she wants to," I tell him simply. I don't know why Richard is being so dramatic… Well, truth be told, he is often dramatic.

He nods his head and hugs me again. He steps back and we stand there smiling at each other for a moment. This behavior is quite strange. Even for him

"You know, Willy, you have always been there for me… Always helped get me out of tight spots or helped clean up messes I've caused…" He pauses as he thinks of the next thing he wants to say. "If one day I see you do something stupid, would you want me to help you clean up your mess?"

I laugh. "I am not you, Richard. I doubt I would do anything so foolish as to require your help to set right."

He sighs. "Just answer me," he says impatiently. He looks up at me, and realizes his tone was a bit strident. "I'm sorry. Please just answer," he implores.

I sigh. I hear in his voice that whatever is going on is important to him. "Yes, of course, Richard. If I ever do something stupid, you are free to help me clean up my mess. You're my family, who better to help me?" I smile, hoping my words will quiet his anxiety.

He returns my smile, my answer having put him at ease. He hugs me again. "Good night, Willy," he says quietly and walks out the door.

"Good night," I whisper after him.

* * *

><p>"Rebecca... No… Rachael, or was it Samantha… I've got it! Ellie!" he taps his chin, as if deep in thought. "…Or was it Elle...?"<p>

"Richard, what are you babbling about?" I ask him, even though I'm pretty sure he's trying to remember the name of his latest conquest. Busy with work, I've been doing my best to ignore him. It's not working.

"You know, the name of that girl you met in London all those years ago. What was her name again?"

Subtle, Richard. Very subtle.

He's been asking me about all the women of my life for the past two weeks, with greater emphasis on "that girl I met in London." Fortunately for me, he doesn't clearly remember her name, or exactly when I met her. He was in school in the states at the time, with much of it spent inebriated. He wasn't very interested in the story when I told him.

I don't answer, ignoring him completely. The less information he has, the less he can tease me.

"What do you think about Elizabeth?" he asks suddenly.

I stiffen at this. I look up at my cousin who is sitting on my office couch, trying to dab at the new coffee stain on his shirt.

"What about her?" I answer annoyed.

"She's pretty," he says hesitantly "You should ask her out."

"Oh, yes. She's perfect for me. She's a know-it-all brunette with a herd of children. Oh, and she can't stand my presence. How could I possibly not date her?" I deadpan, hoping he will just go away and let me work.

"Hey!" he says loudly, and rather angrily. "She is a witty, attractive woman! And those children are amazing… No, not just amazing," he stands up, pointing at me. "They are the most spectacular children I have ever met, who – by the way – have the same curious, lively personality as their mother!"

_He's met them. He's met Elizabeth's children. When did he meet her children?_

"Look… I don't want to fight with you right now, and especially about such a ridiculous notion as me asking Elizabeth out," I say, trying to sound as annoyed as I feel.

He sighs. "Darcy, you can't go on living like this."

I stare at him, really not wanting to be having this conversation. "Like how?"

"Living your life like it's a math problem, like it's an equation to be balanced. Living like everything is either black or white, right or wrong. There is a lot more out there. There is so much more than meets the eye, you can't really judge by only what you see…" he pauses, thinking out his next words. "Life is more… more like a story. And sometimes, there's more to the story than just the cover."

I have no idea what he is talking about, and I don't think I want to know.

In any case, he's wrong. Life is algebra and calculus and physics all mixed together. Life, in fact, is just a huge equation. Numbers, constantly adding, mixing, dividing. You work as hard as you can to keep your equation balanced – keep things clean and simple, avoid unknown variables.

Sometimes you realize that things in your past have upset the balance. You can stay up all night thinking about what you could have done differently. What events could have been nudged toward a more elegant solution. But ultimately, you can't change your past. You can only live with it.

So you focus on the present and the future. Do your best to keep your equation balanced. Clean and simple. Avoid unknown variables.

That's how I have always lived. I arrange my life to keep my equation simple and balanced. And it had always worked for me.

Until I met a variable named Elizabeth.

I shake my head to clear thoughts of her, and focus on what was in front of me. Or rather whom.

"Why are you here, Richard?"

Since the night of the fundraiser Charles dragged me to (beginning with Richard dripping all over my floor), he's been appearing at odd times to hang out with me in my office. Which up until then, he had avoided like the plague. He can't stand to be around me when I'm working. I don't pay him enough attention.

But here he is again today, and he still hasn't answered my question.

"Why are you here?" I ask him again, becoming a little annoyed because I need to focus on the new design specs and getting them finalized.

Not only is he in my office, for no apparent reason but to bug me about my love life, but he's here at ten in the morning on a Saturday. A not uncommon work time for me, but Richard? He should be in bed with the blackout shades pulled, nursing his massive hangover from the night before.

Wait a minute….

"You don't have a hangover." I look over at him, wondering how I could miss something as big as a hangover-free Saturday morning.

"I haven't had a drink since the fundraiser," he says as he looks down at his hands, trying to hide his face from me.

"Why not?" I ask in surprise. Two weeks without a drink – that must be some sort of record for him.

"I'm not a lush, Willy," he says, becoming annoyed.

"Ah… OK… tell that to Advil you have with your coffee every morning," I say sarcastically. Usually being on the other end of Richard's teasing, I am enjoying my position right now. "Are you trying to impress some woman?" He shakes his head and just smiles.

"Okay, enough of that… Really, not that I don't enjoy your company, but why are you here? I don't think a burning desire to play chess with me rousted you out of bed on a Saturday morning. Even if you did win." I glance at my downed king on the chessboard in the corner. "And by the way, don't think I don't know you cheated."

Richard never wins. He must have cheated.

"I did not cheat," he says, rolling his eyes. "Someone taught me some new moves," he says simply, a big grin spreading across his face. "She's on a competitive chess team, so she knows her way around a chessboard." He smiles to himself, lost in a memory.

It is a woman. A smart woman, for that matter. Maybe he was being sincere about his New Year's resolution. "That's nice to hear," I tell him sincerely.

"She's really smart. I think she gets it from her dad, who's some kind of wunderkind genius… Actually I think she's smarter," he pauses and lets out a chuckle. "And her dad's a total nerd, so thankfully she didn't inherit that from him."

"I'm glad to hear you are expanding your female horizons. Is that why you're here? Do you want to talk about her?" I watch his face carefully to see if this might be an explanation for his odd behavior.

Richard doesn't answer or look at me, but his right hand reaches up and rubs his eyebrow.

_Aha! That eyebrow thing has been his 'tell' since we were kids. He's hiding something._

"No… No," he says. "I just needed to get updated information on your medical history."

"My medical history?" I ask skeptically. "Do I have surgery scheduled that I need to be made aware of?"

"No, no. Everything's fine. I'm your emergency contact after all, and I realized I didn't have any of this info." More eyebrow rubbing ensues.

_Nice story, Richard, but the caterpillar above your eye says differently. What are you up to?_

I take a really good look at him. He's dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, which isn't unusual for him. But it's only now that I notice the jeans have grass stains on the knees. Now I am even more intrigued.

"Very well then," I say and lean back in my chair. Maybe if I go with this a little, I can get to the bottom of what's been going on with him.

People often underestimate Richard with his devil-may-care attitude, but I've known him long enough to realize that's just a façade. He uses it to make you comfortable, and get you to drop your walls. It's one of the things that makes him a great FBI man.

"Great!" he says eagerly. "Let's start." He looks down at his clipboard. Yes, he has a clipboard. "What's your height, weight, eye color and hair color?"

This sounds more like a driver's license questionnaire then a medical one, but I'll humor him. "Six foot, 2 inches, 190 pounds, blue and black."

He nods his head and makes notations. "I'm going to read a list of health problems and you tell me 'yes' or 'no' if it has ever affected you… Stroke… Heart disease…" He goes on to name about 60 different diseases. I roll my eyes as the minutes tick down. I don't have time for this. What is he up to?

We finish the list of my potentially diseased body when Richard asks, "Do you have any family members who have been affected by the following: Cancer, diabetes, glaucoma and any immune related diseases."

_Sigh._ "No to all of them, except cancer. You know mum died from ovarian cancer."

He cringes a bit from my answer but quickly moves on. "Have you had any surgery in the last six months?" His very serious mien looks at me over the top of his clipboard.

"No!" I tell him in exasperation. "I have not! And please tell me we are done with this nonsense. I have work to do, Richard." I point to my computer. "You know, 'keep the lights on' and all."

"Calm down, Wilma," he says grinning. "One last question and I'll leave you alone."

"Fine. But hurry up," I grit through my teeth. He knows how much I hate it when he calls me that, or some other woman's name beginning with 'W'.

He pretends to skim through the papers for a minute, and then appears to find what he's looking for. He looks back up, smiling, "Ok, last question… What's your favorite color?"

I wad up a piece of paper and throw it at his head. "Out, Richard!" I say impatiently, already tired of whatever game he's playing. "Get out, I have real work to do." I glare at him for a minute. "And throw that out in the trash!" I say, pointing to my makeshift paper cannonball.

"No, no! I'll behave. I promise," he begs, and sits down in the chair in front of my desk. I hear a knock on my door and see Mrs. Reynolds stick her head in.

"Mr. Darcy, you have a call on line two from your aunt and the board meeting is in 5 minutes. Also do you want me to schedule an interview with the press? We're getting a lot of calls about the new phone the Japanese have unveiled that is similar to ours. Oh, and Mr. Halt is wondering if you've already looked through the design specs for his project. He needs a go from you today so he can have it ready for the–"

"Ach! I completely forgot the meeting!" I say, interrupting Mrs. Reynolds. I jump out of my seat, glaring at Richard as I run out the door. His nonsense being the reason I'm running late for the meeting.

Sometimes I ask myself why I even still talk to him.

_Sigh. He's my cousin and I love him, that's why. _

_Annoying bastard…_

* * *

><p>"Don't you have work to do? A real life of your own to get to?" I ask my cousin, finding him still in my office after the meeting, feet propped up on my desk and reading a book.<p>

_I'll have to disinfect the desk later. Who knows where those shoes have been?_

"Nope," he answers, making a popping sound at the end. "I took the day off." His eyes never leave the book.

Now I know something is seriously going on. Richard never takes a day off. N-E-V-E-R. He's almost as bad a workaholic as I am. He lives for his job. In fact, last year they forced him to take a week off because he had too many vacation days piled up. The idea of him voluntarily taking the day off just smells _wrong_.

"Really. You took a day off. Why?" I ask him.

"To be with you, of course, Wilhelmina," he responds, still with his nose in the book.

_And there goes the eyebrow rub…_

OK, Richard, I'll play. "You've been here for…" I check the clock on my desk, "… two hours. Bugging me with that ridiculous medical questionnaire and reading. And why are you wearing jeans with grass stains on them?"

"You know, Wanda, this book is really good," he says, ignoring my questions.

"Richard, you NEVER read," I look at the book cover. "And, certainly not books like _Animal Farm_!"

_OK, time to get to the bottom of this nonsense._

"What's her name, Richard?"

He looks up, surprised, from his book. "What's whose name?"

Sigh. He's not going to make this easy, is he. "The girl, Richard. What's the name of the girl who finally taught you how to read?"

He smirks. "What makes you think I'm reading because of a girl?"

"Do you even know what you're reading about?" I ask. "You know, _Animal Farm_ doesn't have any pictures of piggies. Isn't _Hop On Pop_ more your speed?"

"Of course I know what I'm reading about." He puts the book down for a moment, his finger holding his spot. "It's a political satire representing the events that led up to the Russian Revolution and then through the Stalin Era." He pauses and smiles, as if remembering a joke. "It uses farm animals to depict the different societal and political forces. It's a metaphor."

"You got that summary off Wikipedia, didn't you?" I ask, knowing there is no way he came up with that on his own. He's smart, but let's just say that literature was never his strong suit.

"Of course I didn't, Winifred!" he says, pretending to be offended, and then starts reading again.

_Fine. Whatever. I've got work to do._

I dig back into the design specs and my other work, ignoring the Richard shaped lump in the chair in front of my desk.

After some minutes, Richard breaks the silence.

"Olivia," he says. I look up at him from behind my glasses. "Her name is Olivia."

_I __knew__ it was for a girl._ I try to hide my smile and look back down at my work.

Not content with my reaction, he repeats, "I said her name is Olivia." He stands and pokes me in the shoulder for emphasis.

"Ow!" I say, holding my shoulder. "Stop it, you arsehole!" I continue with my work.

He's getting pissed at me for ignoring him.

_Hah!_

"I said, her name is O-LIV-I-A," he repeats. This time, stressing each syllable.

"OK, I'll bite. Is that name supposed to mean anything to me?"

"It is!" he says, finally looking happy and giving me a light punch in the shoulder.

_Olivia? Olivia… I don't know any Olivia… Unless…_

"Are you talking about Georgiana's doll?"

He looks up at me, startled. "Georgiana has a doll named Olivia?!"

"Yeah. You remember…" I give him a strange look.

"Georgiana named her doll Olivia?" He repeats, looking like this is the most important question in the world.

I really need to get back to work. I sigh dramatically trying to make Richard notice that he has overstayed his welcome. "No. I did. Are we done yet?"

Richard gasps, "Let me guess – Georgie calls her Olive!"

"Yes…" I say hesitantly. "How did you know that?" _This is so strange…_

He starts laughing. "She's clever, I'll tell you that…"

Now I am even more confused. "Who's clever? What are you talking about?"

He doesn't really answer me. He just smiles at me and says (more to himself), "She's one clever woman."

_Wait… Where else did I hear that name recently? Something Mrs. R said…_

I suddenly remember and ask Richard, "Are you talking about the little girl, Olivia… from that school?"

His eyes become big. "What little girl?"

"We're having some kids from a gifted school tour our offices. One is named Olivia. She's coming with her brother… William, I think… and two other kids… I can't remember their names, but they're supposed to be science prodigies."

"Robert and Matt?" he asks, a huge grin creeping across his face.

This has been a weird day, but it's only getting weirder. "Yeah… That's it… How do you know about this?"

"Erm… Mrs. Reynolds told me about it. Yeah…" Rub, rub, rub. It's a miracle that he has any eyebrow left at all.

"Mrs. Reynolds," I repeat, knowing that he's lying to me. But why?

"Promise me something," he asks, his face getting serious.

Richard getting serious is such a rare thing, I let the lie pass. "Promise you what?"

"Promise me you will personally lead the tour."

"What?! Why would I want to do that?"

"Because you're like a hero to these children. They want to be you when they grow up," he pleads. "The least you can do is give them a tour."

I shift uncomfortably in my seat. "Yeah, I don't think so…" I focus back on my work. Obviously he has never seen me around children. Just thinking about the noise and the runny noses sends a shiver down my spine.

"Aw, come on Darce, please?" he begs. "Hero. Heeee-ro."

I gaze at him dubiously. "I'll think about it."

He sighs. "Well… That will have to do, I guess," he says, giving me his famous big green puppy eyes in the hope I'll commit to leading the tour.

_Puppy eyes, Richard? That hasn't worked on me in years._

_Years._

_Damn._

I throw up my hands. "Fine. If I have no immediate work to do when they get here, I will lead the tour."

Sigh. Apparently I'm not as immune to the puppy eyes as I thought.

"Great!" he says. He's so excited, he comes around the desk to give me another hug. He's gotten very huggy lately. He checks his watch, "I gotta' go, don't want to be late. Good night, Darce."

Richard walks out my door, mumbling happily, "Great! He's finally going to meet them!"

I look up wanting to ask him what he means, but he is already gone. I stare out the door, letting my mind wander.

_What was all that about?_

_Hmmm… I wonder where he's going next… He didn't want to be late…_

_Probably a date with his new _Animal Farm_ reading woman…_

_And he never did answer me about the grass stains on his jeans... So unlike him… _

_Elizabeth would have worn something like that and not cared… Comfortable and lived in…_

I stand up in a panic. My thoughts and my numbers hit me like a wall.

_Is that where he's going!? 3… 6… 9… 12… 15… Is he meeting up with Elizabeth?! 18… 21… 24… 27… 30… _

I go to the window and look out. I'm shaking so I put my hands against the glass for support.

_No. Don't think that. 33… 36… 39… 42… He can't be seeing Elizabeth. It can't be her…_

I'm counting everything. The number of my breaths, the number of people, the number of birds. I count and count and count. I feed off the repetition and the pattern. It's like a prayer. It's my faith, and it gives me peace.

_I have to let her go. I have to let her go. I have to let her go. I have to… I have to…_

I count the beats of my heart and the blinks of my eyes until I can finally distract myself from my problems and my thoughts. Until finally, I can get lost in a world I can control.

1... 1... 2... 8... 86... 1394... 32134...

There are never enough numbers.

957332... 35154340... 1537408202... 78132541528... 4528684996756...

My panic escalates. I have to stop this.

_I close my eyes._

_And breathe_

_In_

_Out_

_In_

_Out_

_You can do this, Darcy. You've been here before, and you got through it. _

_In_

_Out_

_You've been angrier that this. More lonely than this. You've had heavier burdens than this. _

_In_

_Out_

_You've been here before. It's nothing new. _

_In_

_Out_

_You got through it before. You'll get through it again. _

_In_

_Out_

I open my eyes.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:I Know this chapter has a lot of unanswered questions. But I promise next chapter those questions will be answered. **

**I already have the next chapter done I just sent it to my beta so hopefully I will be able to upload that chapter soon.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviews and leaves me beautiful comments. I love you guys! Thanks to everyone who follows and favorites this story. **

**Again I repeat I'm trying to make this story around 20 chapters.**

**Oh another thing I left a hidden quote from another book in this story. If anyone can find it I will send you the entire next chapter. **

**love you all!**

**And as always free virtual food for those who review. This time its cookies!**


	12. Carl Friedrich Gauss

**A/N: So I'm not dead... I don't know if its just me but if I read a story that has not been updated in a while my mind usually thinks pessimistic thoughts, yep that person is probably dead or in an accident that's why they never updated. Am I the only person who thinks that?**

**Yeah I know 6 months without an update. I know I'm a horrible person...and writer.**

**But I do promise I will complete this story...I update like every blue moon, but I update!**

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><p><strong>So in summary Elizabeth got pregnant with triplets but she never found Darcy after their night together so she never told him. Skip 10 years later and she's a lawyer who met him again because her sister is now dating his best friend Bingley. She thinks he doesn't remember her and he thinks she doesn't remember him. <strong>

**She hasn't told him about the triplets instead decides to hide the truth from him by lying about their ages. Her sisters and Charlotte meet Richard Fitzwilliam and think he's the father of the triplets and send him to her house where he meets the kids. He promises to hide her secret only because she promised to tell Darcy.**

**Richard also doesn't know that Darcy is in love with Elizabeth nor does he know that Elizabeth is the women he has been trying to find for years.**

**and that's what happened...**

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><p><em>Problem #1 of being a single mom: Married women think you want to steal their man.<em>

I wish I could just yell out to all the married woman out there who see me as a threat that I don't want their husbands. Really.

If I wrote these women a letter, it would go something like this:

_Dear Woman Who Thinks I'm About To Steal Her Husband,_

_I am __**not**__ going to steal your man. I don't want him. The father of my children was a god incarnate . His body was perfection and could put Adonis to shame. So, what makes you think that I would go after your husband?_

_I'm a successful lawyer, and I do not __**need**__ a man in my life. I do not __**want**__ a man in my life. And if I did, it would certainly not be __**yours**__. Why would I want a married guy with kids of his own to put up with? I can barely tolerate mine–what makes you think I would volunteer to tolerate yours?_

_Not to mention having to put up with you, his crazy ex-wife._

_If I wanted a guy (which I don't), I definitely wouldn't settle for anything less than Male Perfection. Anything short of that is just not worth it._

_Sincerely,_

_Single Mom Who Is Not After Your Husband._

_P.S Why don't you try giving him (the one who can't stop staring) the stink-eye, instead of me. I just want to make it through my day, not go after a middle-aged man with kids and a crazy ex-wife. (No offense.)_

_I've got enough stuff to deal with._

If I thought it would do any good, I would write that letter, stick it in an envelope and ship it express to the woman who is staring at me right now. I'm just trying to pick my kids up from school and meet their baby-daddy's cousin. Can't a girl catch a break?

I wish I could flip her off, but I'm standing in front of the school and I think she _may_ be one of the room moms.

So that idea is out of the picture.

Bummer.

Where the hell is Richard? It must be physically impossible for that man to be on time. Either that or he likes to make an entrance. I'm putting my money on the latter…

…Especially when I see the jealous woman start smiling in the direction of the parking lot as she's fluffing her hair. There's Richard walking towards me, smiling as always.

"Here you go, milady" Richard says as he places a manila envelope in my hands, completely oblivious to the death-glare Room Mom is shooting in my direction (as she wipes the drool from her chin).

I smile at her as I link arms with Richard and guide him up the stairs. Richard may be a pain in the ass sometimes, but he **is** a fine looking man. If she thinks we're together, who am I to disabuse her of that notion?

Revenge is sweet.

Halfway up the stairs I remember the envelope and cautiously inspect it. With Richard you never know if he's put an insect or something of the like inside. (He's like Tom Hanks in the movie 'Big'–a child stuck in an adult's body.) Seeing no signs of foul play, I hold it at arms length and open it, to be met with not a six-legged friend,

I remember Richard just gave me something, so I cautiously open the envelope kind of worried that he might have put some insect in it. He would do something like that. He's like Tom Hanks in the movie 'big' a child stuck in an adult's body. I put the envelope at arm's length to open it but instead of a six-legged friend, I'm met by an ordinary packet of papers. My surprise stops me, and I begin to examine them.

It's a medical history. A rather extensive one. I raise my eyebrow in question to Richard. He ignores me and continues to walk up the school steps, leaving me behind and confused as to why he's given me something so random.

I sprint up trying to catch him, my shorter legs trying and failing to keep up. A tall man is a plus when exacting revenge on crazy Room Moms, not so much when strolling along.

"What is this?" I say waving the papers in his face. He rolls his eyes like I have seen James do countless of times when his little sister says something he finds stupid. Hanging out with Richard lately has definitely felt like getting an older brother.

"Isn't it obvious? It's a medical questionnaire." he says simply, as he holds the door open for me.

"Yeah. I see that," rolling my eyes. I know this must be some kind of prank, but I go with it for now. "And I need your medical history because…?"

Ignoring my question (as well as the herd of drooling moms in the hallway), he exclaims, "You know how hard it was for me to get all that?! A thanks would be nice, you know."

I'm rapidly losing my patience for this conversation, but I press on. "I don't really care about how difficult it was for you to fill out your doctor's paperwork. I just want to know why I now hold it in my hand!" I think I started to get a little loud towards the end, but honestly, It's like dealing with another child sometimes.

He's looking at me, trying to hold back his laughter when I lose it. Well, I actually lost it already this morning when I stepped on a stray Lego from David's school project. Something to do with how to use space properly in metropolitan areas.

Which reminds me of…

_Problem #2 of being a single mom: Legos._

If you've never had the pleasure of a Lego under your bare foot, let me tell you: Those babies hurt like hell. I guess you could argue all moms have this problem, but at least you can laugh at your partner when it's him and not you.

But I digress…

After Richard realizes he's stepping on my last nerve, he takes pity and finally replies, "It's not my medical history, it's Darcy's. I realized you wouldn't have a complete family medical history for the kids."

Wow. That's really nice to have. I can finally answer the pediatrician's questions about family history without feeling like a bad mom. I'll be able to sleep at night knowing for sure they don't carry a rare gene for some horrible, incurable disease. I mean, really, who knows what crazy inbreeding Darcy's genes hold.

_Problem #3 of being a single mom: Unknown mutant genes._

When I went in for that first ultrasound, imagine, my surprise when the doctor tells me I'm actually having twins. My heart stopped. Twins were not in my plans. Hell, a child wasn't in my plans. I had just wrapped my brain around that, and now I have to do everything twice? I don't think so.

So when the doctor then says, "Oh, I'm sorry. You're **not** having twins," I breathe a huge sigh of relief.

Imagine my shock when he continued, "You are actually having triplets!"

While trying not to punch the smiling doctor in the face, I keep asking myself, _Triplets! Where did that come from?!_

Freakin' William Darcy's mutant genes. You know, ancient English family. With the cousins all marrying each other and stuff?

Finally armed with the info, I'm thinking grateful thoughts about Richard's benevolence, it hits me like a steam roller:

"Richard! He's going to know!"

"I wouldn't worry. Willy is smart, but he's been slow on the uptake lately." He laughs. "I've been leaving him tons of hints and he hasn't caught any of them."

_Wait…hints… WHAT?!_

"WHAT!? You've been doing WHAT?!" I shriek. My heart starts racing, imagining Darcy will jump out and attack me with questions about why I hid his children.

"Calm down mother hen. I haven't **told** him anything," he says. But then he looks down at his shoes, now finding the ground far more interesting as he murmurs under his breath, "I've just been leaving him little bread crumbs… No big deal…"

I am seeing red. "This is no time to pull a Hansel and Gretel! I will tell him when I'm ready and the kids are ready!"

"Fine… yeesh! I'll stop," he says now looking at me, "if that's what you really want." He's looking at me like a puppy who has just piddled on the kitchen floor: full of remorse and hoping you'll still scratch behind his ears.

_Deep breath…_

_I shouldn't have yelled. I know he's only trying to help. I knew I ran a risk telling Darcy's cousin, but I wanted to trust him. And I do…_

I nod my head, confirming he should stop with the clues but I'm not really mad anymore.

As I open the gym door waving him through he starts chuckling, "The kids are right! You **are** easy to get in a good mood!" He gives me a little hug around the shoulders and strides into the gym, whistling annoyingly happy tune.

_Jerk._ I realize I've been suckered, but decide to carry on.

There are lines of tables placed on the gym floor. I look for Olive, and not seeing her, scan for Mary or Charlotte and the boys. It wasn't too hard to find them. They're the ones in the bleachers yelling and waving their arms, "Mom! We're over here!"

Great. Undisciplined children. Another reason for the Room Moms to hate me. Richard chuckles and starts waving back just as exuberantly. His laugh creates little wrinkles around his eyes–a great sign in a person. It means they spend a lot of time laughing.

Despite his wonderful laugh lines, Charlotte and Mary send a death-glare his way. They know he's not the father. They just hate him on principle.

To this day, I'm not sure how Mary figured out the triplet's father was Darcy, not Richard. She shared the info with Charlotte, but they agreed to keep it from Jane, as she is incapable of lying.

She and Charlotte just burst into my apartment throwing all these questions about Darcy and Richard at me. Charlotte was really mad that I had lied to her, but after much explaining and repenting she agreed not to say anything until I talked to Darcy.

Her last words that day still haunt me: still haunt me:

"You don't have to deserve your mother's love. But you have to deserve your father's.* I wonder what the effects of growing up without a father are. Thinking that their father didn't love them and thus abandoned them." she said sadly as she walked out of my apartment.

_Problem #4 of being a single mom: Wondering if your not needing a man, and therefore denying them a father figure, is really screwing up your kids._

Thank you Charlotte for reinforcing one of my greatest fears.

And anyways, I'm not the one to blame. I looked for him! I searched for him every day until I left. And now he appears, out of the blue, not only lacking an explanation for why he disappeared, but he doesn't even remember me! So I should expose him to my kids who have hated and felt abandoned by him?!

Not to mention that he's a jackass. I want that example for my boys? I read in a magazine once about adults saying how their father mistreated them that they wished they had never met him, or that their mother had dumped his sorry ass.

So, yeah, I am not excited about subjecting my kids to him just so he can mistreat them. But now that the cat is out of the bag (and then there's Richard with his damn breadcrumbs), I know it's just a matter of time.

They are more mine than his. I gave birth to them, I raised them, I nurtured them. Yes, he gave half his genes. But I carried them for months inside of me. I kissed their boo-boos and I held them why they had nightmares.

They are MINE! Period. End of story.

It's been two weeks since Charlotte and Mary found out Richard wasn't their father. And they still hate him anyway.

"How's she doing?" I ask the boys as I take a seat in the bleachers.

"Good." That's all I get out of David before he starts talking to Richard and ignoring me completely.

_Problem #5 of being a single mom: _ We're not used to sharing our children's love.

There is a scientific study that says that the child's first words are almost always 'mama' or 'dada' because the word is repeated.

Yeah. Not true.

The first words of a child. Oh, the joy it brings! Fathers and mothers fight over who will claim the First Word honors. I didn't have that problem. No one brainwashing them with "Daddy, daddy , daddy," all day long. Their first word be mine. I just knew it. I felt it in my bones.

Now, you might think the first one to speak must have been James or Olivia, who are the smartest. Wrong. The first one to speak was David. And he never shut up after that.

Thinking about it now, I realize there was no other outcome. David had to be the first one to speak. He just loves the sound of his own voice too much.

It was an early morning. I kept repeating the word "mommy" for I don't know how long. James and Olive just stared at me silently, like I'm a crazy person. But David was getting into it and babbling non stop. I had no idea what he was saying, but he was talking. And then I hear it! His first word!

It was not 'mom'. Not 'mommy'. No 'mama' for me that morning.

Water.

His first word was 'water'.

He doesn't even like water!

I got beat by the word 'water'.

I was so disappointed. But I rallied because I still had a chance with my other two.

The next one to speak was Olive. Now I know what you must be thinking. Sweet Olive will say 'mommy'. I was her world. My sweet baby girl was going to say 'mommy'.

She was 7 months old when it happened.

She looked up at me, furrowed her eyebrows and said….

'Door'.

'Door'?! Really?!

Though disappointed, I still had my James. He was my last hope. Quiet, contemplative James.

He was two and he still didn't talk. I took him to the doctor fearing he might have some learning disability or hearing disorder. But after checking him out the doc told me he had yet to find something important to motivate him to talk. I was so mad! Wasn't I enough motivation?

_Sigh._

It didn't happen until right before their third birthday.

I was teaching David math and he was having trouble finding the square root of 9. Adding, subtracting, division, and multiplication was a breeze for them. So I had decided to show them something a little harder. James was sighing, obviously frustrated with his brother. I knew James was smart. He used to write his answers for me down in a sheet of paper. So imagine my surprise when I heard a little voice, "Three."

Three.

I get beat out by water, a door and the square root of nine!

Ungrateful little brats.

Once I calmed down, I realized I was hurt and a little jealous of those objects they clearly felt were important enough to comment on.

I still remind them of it. They just roll their eyes when they hear me whine about it. They tell me to let it go, and clearly I am loved far more than a mathematical construct.

But letting it go is hard. I was so young, and had no idea what to do with them and how to take care of them. I felt like I must be the worst mother in the world.

I needed a sign. Something to tell me, "Hey, you're doing just fine." Somewhere in there I just latched on to the fact that their first word would be 'mama' (or some variation thereof), and I would know I was doing a good job.

Eventually, they grew up. I grew up. I realized that I wasn't really sharing their affections with a door and a glass of water, and I got over it.

And now Richard shows up and I might as well be background noise.

I look at David talking animatedly with Richard and I'm jealous. Jealous that I'm not the one making him laugh. I'm not the first person David wants to talk to. Jealous that his excitement isn't saved just for me.

Is this how mothers feel when their children tell them that they love their dad more?

I've never had to compete for my children's affections. But now I do….and let me tell you something, it _sucks._

It's been two weeks and some days since they met Richard. And they adore him. And not in the 'hey, you're kind of funny and I like you' kind of way.

No. I'm talking about the 'OH-MY-GOD-I-WANT-TO-BE-YOU-WHEN-I-GROW-UP' kind of way.

And that was before they found out he worked for the FBI. Yeah, that beats 'mom who's a lawyer' any day of the week, and twice on Sundays.

When James was little and saw Star Trek for the first time, he told me he wanted to be James T. Kirk and work at Starfleet. He believed having the same name was a sign (OK, so I had a little thing for Kirk, and it **might** have played a **small** role in baby naming…). I told James they didn't have Starfleet, but NASA was kind of the same thing. So for years he's been fixated on being an astronaut and having a career at NASA.

Until two weeks ago.

Now he wants to be an FBI agent. Same thing with David.

Olive's reaction to the whole FBI agent thing? Her eyes got really big and told us that Richard was comparable to a knight in medieval times.

Yeah, I don't think so.

But in the end, Richard really grows on you. Like mold. The bathroom kind that you just cannot remove. Yeah that's Richard to me.

I let out a sigh as I watch the love-fest happening beside me.

Charlotte leans over and whispers, "Green is not your color."

"Excuse me?" my trance breaking from the view in front of me as I look at Charlotte.

"You're so jealous of him. At least try to hide it a little bit."

"Yeah, I'm jealous," I say, not trying to hide it even a little bit. "I don't get why they're so fascinated with him," I tell her honestly.

"Well they're boys and he's the first big male figure they've had," she responds as we watch the boys trying to snatch something from Richard's hands. "Plus he's not their parent. He's like the cool uncle that when you're mad at your father you yell at him saying why he can't be more like him."

I smile, remembering the many times I asked my own parents why they couldn't be more like the Gardiner's.

"Where is Olive," I ask Charlotte as I remember I haven't seen her yet.

I'm a horrible mother.

"She's right there," pointing to a corner where she's sitting across a table from a boy. She's deep in concentration as she moves a chess piece. I use to play with her until she told me it was boring playing with me since she always won. You do nice things for them and they don't appreciate it. Hmph.

_I've got to get a handle on this bad mood before I see Olive._

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><p>"It's a pleasure to meet you two!" the teacher chirps.<p>

The tournament having run its course (Olive won!), Mary and Charlotte offered their congratulations and left for home, so it was just Richard and me who got taken over to meet her teacher.

I've met her several times, but apparently I'm not terribly memorable.

"I've heard so many things about you" she says.

"Oh you have?" I tell her, my heart racing and already thinking of all the millions of things that Olive could have told her.

_Did she tell her about the mold we found in the bathroom? Which I swear is not poisonous. Oh my god what if she calls children services! Can they take my children away for bathroom mold!? Maybe they say my house isn't adequate for children. Or maybe she told her about David's broken arm last week was caused by falling from the apartment stairs? I was watching at him (I __**totally**__ was), he just has a tendency to walk strangely making him take a wrong step and BAM he fell! And that black eye James showed up with last week? David kicked a soccer ball in his face! What if she thinks I'm hitting my kids?! _

_Oh my god they're going to take away my children! AHHHHHHHHH!_

"Yes, she says you're a lawyer," she says looking at me, "and that you work for the FBI." She looks at Richard from head to toe as she speaks, totally checking him out.

I let out a breath in a rush of relief.

"I can see where they get their good looks from," she says. I'm about to tell her thank you when I see her biting her lower lip and I realize she's not talking to me but to Richard.

I'm about to straighten out her misconception, when Olive comes running towards us with her trophy. Feeling all the pride of her huge win, she's smiling at us – her raven hair flying all over her face – as she pushes her glasses up her nose.

"Look mom!" she says squealing in delight as she waves her trophy in front of my face.

"Nerd." David coughs beside me.

I glare at him as I embrace Olive. I'm really proud of her, I truly am. I know she will do great things in life with the brain she has, and the joy she feels.

I know they will all do great things and I will be right beside them cheering them. I will never regret having them.

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><p>The days pass quickly after that encounter with Charlotte and Mary at school. Richard comes and goes with frequency, getting more attached to the children with every visit to the small apartment we call home.<p>

It's clear that the children's attachment to him is growing exponentially, as well. The first question they ask me when I pick them up is if Richard is visiting that day. After I confirm his visit, they go on and on talking about what they want to show him or tell him.

Charlotte and Mary try to coincide their visits with his when they can, using the opportunity to give him the evil glare.

But the kids don't notice it, and if Richard does, he ignores it pretty well.

This new routine works well for us for now.

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><p>"You got them a <strong>cat<strong>?!"

I stare at the ugly thing Richard calls a cat, currently sprawled across my couch.

"Yeah! You seem like a cat person," he cheerfully responds.

I do not like pets.

Why do I not like pets, you ask?

I have triplets instead.

Pets are just another thing to take care of: You have to bathe them, entertain them, and feed them. At least with the triplets I had them being potty trained and getting a job to look forward to.

The minute I saw Richards gift to the kids, I saw nothing of their joyous faces and heard nothing of their promises to take care of it.

All I could think of was having to get up early just to feed that nondescript ball of fur that everyone insists is a cat. Not to mention cleaning a litter box. I knew a week after all their very earnest promises, it would be just another thing I would have to take care of.

Where did Richard even find this beastie? The poor thing looks like it hasn't eaten in weeks. I bet it has worms and half his ear is missing probably from a fight with a dog.

It's walking fur, bones, and fleas.

I am definitely **not** a cat person.

Then again I'm not a dog person either.

Actually, I'm not particularly fond of anything that might include more work and less sleep for me.

I make the only reasonable reply in such a situation: "I don't like cats."

Of course, David and Olive can't stop petting and cooing over this thing. At least James is off to the side making disdainful faces in its direction. Apparently, he doesn't want it either.

"Don't touch it," I warn Olive and David, "you'll get a bacteria. Go wash your hands." They look up at me for a moment with their hands in midair, before deciding to ignore me and continue their ministrations.

Silly me. Why would they listen to me?

Not wanting to piss in the wind (so to speak), I ask Richard, "Where did you even get it?" nodding towards the ugly animal.

"I found him when I was taking out the garbage," he breezily tells me.

"I was taking out the garbage and I found him there"

Of course he would bring me a street cat. A mangy, dirty, ugly, and likely feral, street cat. Could he at least have brought me a kitten? Reasonably clean and with all its shots? No, I get this fully grown, poor excuse for pet, that looks like it's about to croak on my couch. A couch, by the way, I will have to disinfect later. More work.

"He's a gift for Olive," he adds, "since she's off to state competition!"

It's been 3 weeks since the school chess tournament, which garnered Olive a spot to compete in the state tournament. It's been a month since I last saw Darcy.

"I love him!" Olive says standing up. "He's perfect!" She runs towards Richard and hugs him as tight as she can, her excitement beaming in her face.

Olive is the only person I know who would call that hideous beast 'perfect'. Well, actually her and Jane. They are so alike in that way, never seeing the downside.

"What are you going to name him?" he asks her.

"Carl Friedrich Gauss," she says, grinning.

I groan. Of course she would name him that.

"Well that's an… _interesting_ name…" Richard begins.

I interrupt him with, "Don't ask. **Please** don't ask," in a vain hope to head him off at the pass.

Which of course he ignores, "… who is Carl Friedrich Gauss?"

You can't say I didn't try to warn him. I slump in a nearby chair, while Olive excitedly relates all she knows about her favorite mathematician. Google and Wikipedia have nothing on Olive when it comes to 'Carl'.

Following Olive's presentation, Richard chuckles softly and murmurs under his breath, "Of course. Math."

"Come on guys!" Olive says, grabbing the fur ball from the couch and signaling her brothers to follow her. "Carl Friedrich Gauss needs a bath."

I **should** stop them. I really, really should. Last I knew, cats (if that's what this varmint really is. I have my doubts.) are not terribly enraptured by contact with water. Jane used to have a cat, and she had to don full body armor to get the thing soaped up.

_But, then again, let's see if this dissuades them from the idea of adopting the fiend._

Think devil and angel on my shoulders, arguing.

Devil wins.

I hear the water turn on, and just wait for the screams and cries for help.

While I wait, I ask Richard the question that has been bothering me for a while, "What are you doing here

"What do you mean, 'what am I doing here'?" he says, sitting down beside me.

_What __**do**__ I mean? _

How can I explain my fear of the kids becoming attached to him, and then him getting bored and leaving? I thought Darcy was attached to me, but he just left. Left with so little thought that he doesn't even remember me. If their own father could just decide to take off, why wouldn't Richard do the same?

They are not his kids. There is nothing tying him down to his apparent 'commitment' to spend so much free time with them I know he has other things to do. More exciting things too. Hell. If I didn't have them, I would be out there having as much fun as I could hold with two hands.

OK, maybe not.

I guess I was never really the party kind of girl. Prior to motherhood, I spent most of my time studying, and whatever was left over was dedicated to reading. The one time I devoted a week to fun, I ended up with three people to take care of.

_Sigh_.

"Let me reword the question: Why haven't you left yet? I doubt you want to spend your weekends with three children running around in the park and going to elementary school chess tournaments." I pause, and my fear almost overwhelming me, and whisper, "So what are you doing here?"

He shifts in his seat as he tries to find an answer to my question. _Oh, God, he doesn't know why he's here._ He looks at the door like he's about to jump through it and never look back. My heart sinks. They're not his kids. He has no reason to stay.

"It's all right if you want to leave," I say softly, trying to choke back the words when I see him glance back at the door again.

But I find myself realizing that I don't really want him to leave. Even if I do feel jealous sometimes about sharing them. Life is easier when he's around. Another pair of eyes, another hug for Olive, a good masculine role model for the boys.

But it's better for all concerned for him to leave now. Before they become even more attached to him. I should have trusted that Charlotte and Mary's angry skepticism was the smart way to go.

He sighs, almost as if in defeat. He clearly does not want to be having this conversation.

"No. I don't want to leave," he says running his hands through his hair. My gaze whips up from the floor to his face in surprise. After a minute, he looks up at me and asks, "Do you really want to know why I haven't left?"

I nod my head.

It takes him a moment to start speaking, "I've been talking to them. About Will. Stories of our childhood… his habits, his quirks… anything really." He pauses and watches me for my reaction.

My confusion and worry clear, he quickly continues, "Olive used to ask me questions about him, and I just tried to answer her as best I could. Simple questions really. She asked me what his favorite color was. What food would he never eat. Does he have a lucky hat. Random stuff like that." He pauses again, and quietly says, "But they never really asked any personal questions about him. Who was he? What was he like? That really worried me. So I just started telling them stories."

"Worried you? What do you mean?" I ask him.

"It's just…." He looks around the room as if the words he wants to say would be scribbled on the walls. "**Why** doesn't she want to know more about him. If I was her, I would be asking a million questions a second. Trying to figure out who and where he is, so I can go meet his sorry ass."

He's right. Why haven't they tried to figure out who he is? Then his earlier words catch up to me, _Olive used to ask me questions_. What does he mean by 'used to ask him questions'.

Then what Richard is trying to say hits me like a brick,

"They don't want to know who he is," I answer as the rest of the puzzle pieces fit together. The way Olive has stopped asking me about him, or talking about him. The way David and James, have stopped complaining. Their marginal curiosity now satisfied, they have no desire to meet him.

He looks up at me with sad eyes and a small sad smile, "Exactly." He shakes his head, "I started to tell them the stories because I wanted to change their minds about him. But they would just start talking about something else." He gives a soft, rueful laugh. "They sure are stubborn. Like you."

I roll my eyes.

_I am not stubborn. _

"Nuh-uh. That's purely their father," I assert.

Richard smiles at me. "But to answer you your question, I'm here to clean up the mess my cousin has made. He left you for some unknown reason––I still do not understand why. But I want to try and fix what he broke when he disappeared, and part of that is improving the opinion his children have of him."

Silently, I wish Richard luck. Once their good opinion is lost, it's lost forever. When their father deserted us, and became a non-entity. And no one on this earth will get them to change their mind.

I sigh. "I'm giving you a chance, Richard," I tell him as I make him look at me. "You can leave right now or you can stay." Richard looks down at his hands thoughtfully again. "But if you decide to stay," I say slowly, "you have to know that you cannot walk out on them. They trust you. You will be stuck with them until they decide they don't want anything to do with you." I'm not going to let him play with the feelings of my children.

He looks at the door again. He's the type of guy who looks like he hates responsibility; he once told me his greatest fear was having kids. So now I have to give him the choice of leaving. It's not his responsibility. If his cousin didn't want to stay why should I think he would?

He shakes his head as he looks up. "You know I hate commitment. When I'm with a woman and they say they're on the pill, I don't trust them. I still take my own precautions because I've always known I don't want children," he chuckles, "and here I am involving myself with these three. And you want to know what the funny thing is?" he asks rhetorically. "They're not mine, not my responsibility, and I didn't even get to enjoy the making of them." He pauses in thought for a moment before continuing, "But it doesn't matter. I promise you, Lizzy that I won't walk away from them."

"Why not?" I ask softly, curious to know why this man who has never wanted children is promising me he will be there for mine.

"Because I want to be here. Because they are amazing. Because I know that when Willy finds out that I knew he had children, and I did nothing to protect his family and take care of them, he will be mad. Even if you don't want to admit it, those children that you have there," he says pointing to the hallway leading to the bathroom, "they are Darcy's. They are almost his whole family. And they're my family, too."

We both stay silent after his speech. I just let his words sink in.

"I looked for him," I say after some minutes, startling Richard. I stare at the wall because I don't think I can look him in the eyes yet.

"What are you talking about?" he asks, some seconds after he notices that I won't explain myself.

I gather myself and look up at him. "You called me selfish. You said I hid them from him. I didn't. I looked. He, obviously, didn't."

"You looked for him?" he asks, shocked as if he cannot even imagine me doing such a thing.

I nod. "We were supposed to see each other again, but he disappeared. I could not find him anywhere. After I found out that I was pregnant, I tried looking for him again. But there is only little you can do when you don't know someone's last name," I tell him as I stare back to the wall not wanting to see his reaction.

Seconds pass by until he finally speaks. "You were a one night stand..." his voice full of pity for me. He finally realized why Darcy never looked for me.

"More or less," I say softly, as shame fills me up. "I looked for him," I say again. "I didn't see him again for ten years, until the day before the fundraiser. I was shocked and could barely think, never mind decide what to do." I pause, thinking back. "The next day I had decided that I would tell him. Never in a million years did I expect I would see him at the party…But I realized I couldn't put it off. That's why I asked you to help me get him alone."

"So why didn't you tell him?"

"Because he wanted nothing to do with me! I don't think he even remembers who I am!" I blurt out, frustrated. "He told me that since we both have a dislike for each other, he would do his best to avoid me and that he'd prefer I do the same. He had walked back inside before I could say a word." I shrug as if what he said didn't affect me.

"I'm sorry," Richard says, shaking his head. "My cousin can be a real jerk sometimes."

I shrug again as I stand up. "Come on," I tell him, "let's go see how much trouble David has stirred up."

I walk towards the bathroom, hearing the laughter from down the hall.

That's weird. Whenever Jane and I bathed her cat there was never laughter - just screams and scratch marks all over our arms.

I open the door and see the ugly cat in the tub, with Olive scrubbing him down with my shampoo. They didn't even use their shampoo; no, they had to use mine. Sometimes I think they have no respect for me.

The cat looks up at me with his sad face and meows for me to save him. He's drenched in water and bubbles, the tub filled with brown water. He was so dirty. Poor thing.

I look at the dirty tub. I'm going to have to use so much Clorox to clean that. This is the reason I didn't want pets. More work for me.

"Where are your brothers?" I ask her when I notice their absence.

"In their room," she says simply, never taking her sight off her cat.

"I'll go check on them," Richard tells me, as he leaves the small bathroom.

I go and sit beside Olive on the floor as she continues to wash the cat. I take a moment to look at her. Her black wavy hair is up in a ponytail. It's not a curly mess like mine. Just perfect wavy hair. There is such a look of concentration on her face. It's the same face she uses when she's doing her homework; her glasses perched on top of her nose. Her eyesight is terrible; I can't wait until she uses contacts because her glasses are just ridiculously thick.

"Mom, stop staring at me," she says, not taking her eyes from what she's doing.

"I'm not staring. I'm admiring my work," I respond, running my fingers through her ponytail. "You know, my body created you and I'm just appreciating the great job I did," I say with a smirk.

She squints her eyes at me. I want to laugh.

"No you're judging me."

"I'm not judging you, sweetie. I'm admiring how beautiful you are," I tell her sincerely, already knowing she won't believe me.

She ignores me as she goes back to her cat, who tried to use her distraction in an attempt to get away. She starts laughing and says, ask if she's speaking to her own child, "Carl Friedrich Gauss, stay put!" Ugly cat pleads with me to end his misery.

Then I remember something I wanted to ask her. Right now it's a perfect place to ask her. No one is around and she can tell me the truth.

"Olive, honey, I wanted to ask you something."

She looks up at me skeptically "What?"

I try to think of a way I can ask her the question without her getting defensive and clamming up. "Remember how you were always asking me questions about your father and now you-" I move my hands around, looking for the word.

"You want to know why I don't ask questions anymore," she says simply.

"Yes," is all I can say because I feel if I speak anything more, I will start to curse William. I highly doubt that will help Olive's desire to meet her father.

She looks at her cat again as she starts rinsing the shampoo away from him.

_I need to buy cat shampoo,_ I think idly.

She doesn't answer me; she wraps the wet cat in an old towel and starts carrying him to her room. I'm not sure if she's ignoring me because she doesn't want to answer the question, or is just distracted by ugly cat. I follow her, wondering if I should just wait for her to answer, or ask again. Or is that too much pressure? These are the moments I wish I had a handbook for how to raise children.

"Can I use these towels for his bed?" she asks me as she lifts some old towels for me to see.

I nod my head. She wraps the cat up and leaves him in the makeshift bed she just made for him in a box with the old towels.

_I have to buy a bed for him,_ adding it to my mental to-do list.

"You know, mom, I could figure out who my dad is in about five minutes," I hear Olive say beside me. I jump; I didn't see her walk up to me. Some people get distracted daydreaming wonderful thing, I get distracted by thinking of all the things I have to do.

That's motherhood for you.

I take a moment to absorb what Olive just said. She can figure out who her dad is.

"Wh….what? What do you mean?" I stutter.

"It wouldn't be that hard. I'm smart, you know." she says pushing up her glasses. I look down at my ten year old daughter who comes up to my chest. I realize how big she's gotten. "I already know his cousin's name; Richard Fitzwilliam. Figuring out who my dad is wouldn't be that hard."

My mouth opens in horror at the idea of the triplets figuring out who their father is, or even worse, seeing him without me knowing.

"But I haven't," she whispers, looking again at the floor.

"Why?" I ask, confused. Because if I was her, I would look him up the minute I could

She sighs. "Here," Olive says, handing me her sketchbook. The one I gave her years ago. The book she lets no one see. The book she promised she would let me see when she was finished with it.

I take it from her hands carefully, as if it was a bomb ready to explode. She's giving me her sketchbook.

"I finally finished it," she pauses. "When you gave it to me, I already knew what I would use it for. I didn't know when I would finish it. Maybe I would finish it quickly or maybe I would never finish it. But now I have," she looks up at me with her icy blue eyes that would make Crayola envious. "That should answer your question," she says.

I look at the cover. What is she hiding in here?

I'm about to open it when Olive yells at me making me stop, "Don't open it here!" she says, blushing. Now I'm really curious.

"Okay... I guess I'll go to my room," I say and calmly walking out of her room, leaving a red-faced Olive behind me. When I'm out of sight, I run to my room and lock myself in. I don't even make it to my bed, I just slide down the wall and sit in the floor Indian style. I open the notebook to the first page and find Olive's neat handwriting all clustered up together.

The whole notebook is messy. As if she used every single space in it. I try to read the first page but it seems as if she wrote on top of sentences and then erased whatever she had to keep on writing again. I can barely read what it says, but I make out as much as I can. One sentence really stands out. In neat handwriting, on top of the page is: Who is he?

I don't even have to ask myself who she is referring to. She's talking about her father. She's talking about William.

This whole notebook is dedicated to her father.

After some minutes I'm finally able to decipher more of her writing. It's filled with questions. Questions about his likes and dislikes. What color his eyes are. How tall he is. Some of them have an answer written in. Like, 'What's his favorite soda?' which has the answer 'Mountain Dew' written in bright red marker. I want to laugh, remembering when I gave her the answer to that question. But other questions have answers that I know I didn't give her. Like the question of 'What's his least favorite meal of the day?' Breakfast, apparently. Richard must have answered that one.

_Oh, Olive, if only you knew what your father was really like. What a jerk he is._

I turn the page and come face to face with a drawing. A drawing of a man with black hair and blue eyes, and he's wearing a policeman's uniform. And on top of the drawing she has in black ink the question: Who are you?

She has drawn William. Or what she thinks he looks like.

I go through the pages of the notebook. They're all filled with drawings of who she imagines her father to be. The drawings are varied; There are firefighters and doctors. Criminals and lawyers. Butchers and farmers. Construction workers and architects. Sometimes he's short, other times he's tall. Sometimes he's fat, another time he's skinny. There are pictures of blonde men and bald men, but most commonly men with black hair. The majority of the pictures features him with blue eyes, but there are a few with green. Now I understand why she told Richard the first time she saw him, that she was wrong "they're green."

She has tried to draw William. But she hasn't gotten him right. And not because she has drawn the men with the wrong eye color or the wrong hair color or the wrong height and even the wrong body type. No that's not the reason why she drew him wrong. The reason why the pictures are wrong is that all the men are smiling.

Darcy never smiles.

This thought stirs the anger that's never far from the surface. I close the sketchbook when I'm almost to the end. The anger continues to build inside of me, thinking of what Darcy has caused. If only he wasn't an unfeeling jerk. If only I was something other than just an easy lay. If only he had cared about me as much as I thought I cared about him.

If only he had stayed with me that night, Olive wouldn't have needed to fill a sketchbook with pictures of a man who didn't want anything to do with her.

I stand up and head towards Olive's room. She said the sketchbook would answer my question, but I'm even more confused. Doesn't this whole book scream out that she wants to meet her father and know him?

I walk to her room but stop when I hear Richard and Olive speaking.

"So you like my gift?" I hear him ask.

"Yes! He's perfect!" I can hear the happiness in her voice, and I smile.

"He's ugly..." I hear James mutter. I can imagine the look of disgust on his face as he says it. I want to laugh but I stifle it, wanting to hear more.

"I know he's ugly," Olive states matter-of-factly, "but it's because he's malnourished. Once we take him to the vet, and give him food, I know he will look better," Olive is serene in the knowledge that this is so.

"You are one ugly cat, Carl Friedrich Gauss," David says as he starts laughing.

"I still think that is a weird name, ugly or not," Richard throws out.

They all become quiet, probably all just staring at the fleabag.

"Talking about names, what should I call you?" Olive asks, probably directing her question to Richard.

"Uncle, cousin, Richard. Whatever you want," he says simply. I can imagine him shrugging as he answers the question.

I wonder why she's asking this. She already calls him Richard.

"Can I call you 'dad'?" she asks so quietly and timidly that I feel like I have imagined it.

Dad. Dad? She asked to call him 'dad'?! This can't be happening.

This. Can. Not. Be. Happening.

I can hear the hesitation on Richards's part. I know he must be torn in answering her. Say 'no' and hurt Olive's feelings, or say 'yes' and have one super-mad William Darcy to answer to when he finds out the truth.

I'm just about to step inside and let Richard off the hook. I figure I'll calmly explain to Olive why that can't happen. But James, ever the helpful older brother, starts to answer, "Olive, you know he's not our d-"

"Of course you can!" Richard blurts out, deciding that Olive's feelings are more important than Darcy's or even his own.

Olive squeals-and I hear them both make hugging noises. I look at my phone and see that it's already ten o'clock. That's their ritual every night. They give each other a big hug when he's about to go.

"Good night, daddy" I hear Olive whisper to him.

"Good night, Pine," he whispers back.

My heart squeezes as I run to my room before they see me there.

She called him 'daddy'.

I throw myself on the bed as I open her sketchbook to the last page, already knowing what I'm going to find.

There it is. The last drawing she made in her sketchbook.

At top of the page in cursive ten-year-old handwriting is the word, Dad.

And on the page is the drawing I hoped I wouldn't find. It's a picture of a man with black hair and green eyes, with wrinkles around his eyes as he laughs. He's wearing a white dress shirt with a tie, a gun holster, and an FBI badge necklace is hanging around his neck.

She's drawn Richard.

She told me she would show me this sketchbook when she finished.

Apparently, she finished.

Now I know why she stopped asking for Darcy.

Because as far as she's concerned, she's already found her father.

Darcy is going to kill me.

_* Robert Frost. The full (and accurate) quote is: 'You don't have to deserve your mother's love. You have to deserve your father's. He's more particular.'_

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><p><strong><em>AN: So I updated..._**

**_Anyways please let me know what you thought of this chapter. Reviews would be appreciated. Like really appreciated._**

**_Also let me know how you think Darcy will react at having his kids call his cousin dad...I don't even know yet how he will react..._**

**_Next chapter is when she visits Netherfield!_**

**_Also thanks to my great beta Julianabr!_**

**_and thanks for everyone pushing me to update!_**

**_Thanks to the people who still read this story and like my horrible writing skills._**

**_Thanks!_**

**_Gracias_**


	13. Pea Green Phyramid

**Hola everybody!**

**So I've had a lot of questions that I have to answer.**

**Did Olivia really think Richard was her dad? ****No. She defiantly knows that Richard is not her father, but she just wants a father figure.**

**Are you a mother?**

**No. But I do have a lot of baby cousins. And a little sister who thinks she's 12. Even though she's going to college.**

**When is Elizabeth going to tell Darcy?**

**Very soon actually.**

_**The scene of them knowing how to do math at that age is unrealistic.**_

**Actually im basing the triplets in these two girls I sometimes babysit. Their child prodigies and when the oldest one was 3 she was multiplying, dividing, and solving math problems, plus she could read and write. I know this because I saw it with my own eyes. Its scary to see someone so young though be so smart. And the little one was actually speaking excellently by the age of 2. **

**So yeah it can happen.**

**Even though I do think one of them is in the Autism spectrum.**

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><p><strong>By the way this chapter was 15,000 words in the beginning but we decided to divide it.<strong>

**Faster updates, but smaller chapters.**

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><p><span><strong>Summary<strong>

**Elizabeth got pregnant at 18 with triplets after a week in England she didn't know the guys last name (DARCY) so she couldn't really find him. She meets him 11 years later when Jane starts dating Bingley.**

**She's tries to tell him but he blows her off. Richard finds out and promises he wont say because she will. She's not telling him right now because she wants to make the triplets more welcoming to the idea, since they pretty much hate his guts. Plus she thinks he will make a horrible father.**

**Olive the youngest of the triplets starts calling Richard her Daddy.**

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><p>The grocery store.<p>

One of the many places that strikes fear into the hearts of mothers everywhere.

I guess if I was a stay at home mom, I know it wouldn't be so bad; I could just go to the store when they're in school.

Unfortunately for me, I'm not. So _I_ have to go to the grocery store after I finish work. Usually accompanied by my three darling, well-behaved children.

Right.

I would really have delayed this whole trip until tomorrow when Richard could help distract them, but I was not about to miss the 'buy one chicken, get one free' Friday special. Feeding the four of us is not cheap. And if the grocery store wants to give me a free chicken on Friday, you can be damn sure I'll be there on Friday.

Plus, I'm out of groceries.

I've been trying to delay this trip as much as possible, today I literally gave them leftover chicken soup for breakfast. That I had made for dinner 2 days ago.

It did not go well.

James said he hated chicken soup. I had to threaten him so he would finally eat it. Maternal guilt was thoroughly engaged, so I just had to suck it up and go.

Now that I'm here, my kids in tow, wobbly shopping cart with the screeching wheel, and I'm really starting to wonder if the free chicken is really worth it. James is huffing loudly behind me, probably aggravated that we're taking 'forever'. That huffing is in turn annoying me like nails on a chalkboard.

I know they don't want to be there. _I_ don't want to be there. But we gotta' eat.

"Mom we've been in the bread aisle for 30 minutes! Just choose already!" James whines.

I ignore him, not wanting to fight right now. There's already some old lady looking at us disdainfully, like we're causing a scene. I suppress the urge to stick my tongue at her.

And it hasn't been thirty minutes. It's just been five minutes. Tops.

I'm trying to decide if I buy the Nature's Own whole wheat bread, or the Sunbeam whiter than white bread. This decision is more difficult than it looks. The real question is, do I want to fight with them to eat healthy food or just avoid the fight and give them white bread? Feeling like I have to assert my maternal wisdom, I grab the Nature's Own.

"I don't like that kind of bread!" James says, looking down at the bread inside the cart with disgust. Every mother has a picky eater and he's mine.

"Tough luck, you're eating it," I tell him as I move to the next aisle.

"I'll eat it, mommy," I hear Olive's voice say beside me. She grabs my hand and I look down at her and smile. My little girl. The easiest of my three children. I _love_ my boys in all of their boisterous, difficult and unique glory, but sometimes I just wish they could be a little easier, like my girl. Olive doesn't always make sense to other people, but she's sweet to me and that's what counts.

I don't know why my mother complained so much about having girls. I think boys are much more trouble. I guess, James can be all right, even if he is a picky eater, but David…

David….

I stop immediately, almost making the cart fall over. I realize that David isn't with us anymore. I look up and down the aisle thinking,_ Where did that kid go?_

"Clean-up in aisle nine," I hear over the loudspeaker.

_Damn._

I make my way to aisle nine, wobbly wheel screeching the whole time. I curse myself for letting David get out of my eyesight, worrying the whole time what awaits me on the dreaded aisle nine. All I know is that it's not going to be pretty.

David does not disappoint.

There are cans splattered up and down the aisle; some still rolling, some dripping their pukey green contents.

And there's my darling boy standing in the middle of it all, and staring down at him is a furious store manager. Bob, according to his nametag.

"Told you the structure was weak," he says to the guy. "The whole pyramid was poorly planned and executed. The base structure was mediocre, at best, and was just waiting for the slightest push to make everything come crashing down. You should fire the guy who did this."

Earth, please. Just open up and swallow me now. Before he starts sketching the physics of it all in the dripping split pea soup.

Bob-the-manager is still glaring at David, his face getting redder by the minute. Though I would much prefer to run away and pretend he's not mine, I suck it up and do my motherly duty.

"I am _so_ sorry," I say, running up to him with my two little ducks trailing behind. Bob-the-manager turns his attention to me and continues to get frighteningly red. I worry about this guy's blood pressure.

"Is this your child, ma'am?" he spits out between clenched teeth. I realize he's standing over David trying to intimidate him with his size.

David is unimpressed, but I still don't like his tone. And I don't like how he's glaring at my son and getting in his face.

I get it. What David did caused this guy a problem, but he has no right to try and intimidate my son. I'm a mom that has faced the reality that my children (cough... David… cough) can be a behavioral handful, but that's my problem. If Bob-the-manager thinks he's going to scare my son, he better find a place to hide because I'm about to go all mamma bear on his ass.

But before I can dig my mamma bear claws into this guy, Olive yells, "Daddy!" and runs to hug Richard, who has mysteriously appeared from the other end of the aisle.

"Hello, mango!" Richard says as he hugs her. "What's happening here?" he asks with his usual friendly smile.

His mouth forms a perfect 'O' as he begins to survey the floor, and sees David with Bob-the-manager standing in a field of cans and gooey green liquid.

"Sir," Bob-the-manager begins. I notice that he's taken a step back, put his reasonable Bob-the-manager face on, and is addressing Richard with a heck of a lot more respect than he did me. I think it has something to do with the FBI badge hanging from Richard's neck and the empty gun holster on his side. Bob-the-manager is a weenie.

"Your son just knocked down all these cans," he continues, pointing down to the floor, "damaging all of them. You will have to pay for the damaged ones."

Oh, hell no! I know my laws and I know I can negotiate something. It was an accident after all!

Before I can open my mouth, Richard responds,"Fine. I'll pay for them."

Richard must have noticed that I was about to pounce on this man who was giving my middle son the evil eye, because he grabs my shoulder and gives it a calming squeeze.

That is _so_ like men. Especially green-eyed FBI Special Agent men named 'Richard'. He just wanders up out of the blue to play the knight in shining armor, to help the damsel in distress.

I'm no damned damsel, and I can handle this myself.

But, at Richard's agreement to pay, Bob-the-manager nods and leaves the stock boys to clean up.

Good riddance to you, jackass. You were just about to get gutted by the mamma bear, and that is a hell of a lot messier (and more painful) than a few cans of spilled split pea soup. Good thing for you Richard came along and saved your ass.

Huh. Looks like Bob-the-manager was the damsel in distress this time and _I_ was the dragon! What dya' think of that, you loser!

I turn around and see the other customers acting like they're not looking at my family's little performance. Then I notice the others, who don't have the decency to even pretend like they're not looking. The nasty old lady from the bread aisle must have followed us over, because she's staring me down, like I'm the worst mother in the universe.

_I don't have time for this crap._ I close my eyes for a moment and take a deep breath.

I turn around to my three children, who are looking everywhere but at me. I tell David, "You're doing all the laundry when we get home."

He looks up at me with his big green eyes, shocked that I'm punishing him. It's clear he's about to open his mouth and start detailing the flaws in the pyramid's construction, but thinks better of it once he catches my expression.

I turn on my heel, checkout (I'm not leaving without my free chicken!) and leave the store. My little ducks and Richard following silently behind me.

And **that** is why mothers (especially mothers of triplets named James, David and Olivia) HATE going to the grocery store with kids in tow.

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><p>While David attempts his first load of dirty laundry, I am sprawled on the couch watching a documentary, happy that David's punishment has given me some leisure time.<p>

They're interviewing this woman named Debbie, whose child was born with a rare debilitating disease. She describes the day she found out her daughter would not survive past the age of five. Debbie is crying and explaining how when she was pregnant, she dreamed of her daughter's first prom, her college graduation and her wedding day, but now knows that these events will never happen.

I want to cry right beside her. I wonder to myself why I'm watching it, but I can't turn away.

She starts saying how she decided to go back to college and then med school. She hopes to help find a cure, so that no other mother or child has to face what her family has faced.

Now I really cry.

"Mom, are you crying?" David asks quietly.

"Shh, James, I'm trying to watch this," I choke out.

"I'm David."

The narrator starts start talking about a mother's love. There is nothing a mother wouldn't do for their child.

It's true; I would do anything for my children. Even give my life for them. I know, I'm feeling a little melodramatic but still….

I'm not an idiot. I get that my children can be irritating and annoying to most people. Yes, they are a little weird. Yes, they are prone to creating little scenes like the one at the market. Sometimes, when they're talking all at once and fighting with each other and not listening to me, I just want to get in my car and drive as far away as I can, as fast as I can.

But I know I wouldn't even make it past the stairs. For all the crazy, they're _my_ children. And I love them and will always be there for them.

Unlike their father, who abandoned them. Abandoned me. Just thinking about it makes me want to throw up.

The documentary is over, leaving me all raw emotion. "James, can I have a hug?"

"I'm, David," he corrects again. But he crawls over to me on the couch and gives me a bear hug all the same. David, James, I'm always confusing their names. I know my kids' names, but mixing them up is a mom thing. Ladies, you know what I'm talking about.

"I love you, David," I tell him as I kiss his head. He's so big now. Pretty soon he will be as tall as me; he's almost to my shoulder already. And then he will be a teenager… go to college… and leave me. They all will. And I will be alone after that. Just me. I want to cry again.

I'm going to have empty nest syndrome in a big, bad way

"I love you too, mom," he says, wiggling out of my embrace. "Do I really have to do all the laundry?" He gives me those puppy-dog eyes.

Nice try. I _will_ do anything for my kids. Except for take over their punishment chores.

I shake my head at him. He grumbles loudly and slinks back over to the piles of dirty clothing. I get up to check on his progress and see he has a red shirt on top of the 'whites' pile.

My son is a genius. Really. The test scores don't lie. But after several minutes of instruction on how to avoid pink underwear, he still doesn't get it, apparently.

_Sigh._ This is what my life has come to: At home on a Friday night, watching sad documentaries on Lifetime, and answering all David's laundry questions. Again.

"You can't put a red shirt in with white stuff, David. We went through all this."

"Where does it go, then?" He asks, giving me the stink-eye for making him do this.

"What color is it?" I ask patiently. Okay. Maybe not so patiently.

"Red."

"So does it go in whites? Or in the washer with the _other_ colored clothes?" I try to paste an encouraging smile on my face for the hundredth time.

He looks at the shirt again, as if it might have changed color in the last few seconds.

_Genius_, remember?

"Color?" he hesitantly offers.

I nod and do my best to refrain from banging my head against the wall. Now I remember why I never dole out this particular punishment, useful though it may be. It's more exhausting explaining the concept of 'white' and 'not white' to my genius child. Over and over again.

He throws the shirt in the washer. He holds up another shirt for me to see. It's a blue t-shirt with words in it. "How about this one?" he asks. "It's blue but the writing is white. Does it go with the 'whites' pile or in the washer with the colors?"

I'm about to snatch the shirt and just do the laundry myself, rather than lose it on my boy wonder, who probably knows the chemical formula of that particular blue dye.

Fortunately, I don't have to do either as my phone starts to buzz. Jane's calling.

"What's up, Dr. Jane Foster? How's Thor?"

"Who?" She asks, clearly puzzled.

"Nevermind," I reply, giving up my sad attempt at geek humor.

"Um, okay..." Jane pauses, "Oh, Lizzy, I'm just so glad you answered your phone." She lowers her voice to a whisper, "I need you to do me a favor."

I quickly snatch the white shirt out of David's hand before he puts it in the washer. I finally just shoo him gives me a wicked smile as he runs from the room before I change my mind.

"Never have children," I grumble closing the washer.

"What did David do this time?" Jane asks. Not needing to ask which child is prompting me to advise forgoing motherhood.

"'What didn't he do?' is the better question. I've tried everything I can to get him to behave but he just can't keep himself out of trouble. Today at the market he knocked down a pyramid of split pea soup cans to show Bob-the-manager that his pyramid design wasn't sound." Jane starts to giggle.

"Plus, he shaved poor Carl Friedrich! Who does that?" Jane's giggles increase.

"And when I ask him why he shaved his sister's cat, you know what he said?"

Jane tries to choke out a "What?" before she succumbs to her laughter.

"Because it was funny! Funny, Jane. FUNNY!" I sigh and drop into a chair and rub my aching temple. "Not to mention his teacher wants to see me tomorrow. God knows what she wants…"

"Tomorrow is a Saturday," Jane says, confused.

"Exactly! I have absolutely no idea why I need to be there on a Saturday, but… whatever…"

"MOOOMMM! David is bothering Carl again!" Olive yells from her room.

"OLIVE, I'M ON THE PHONE WITH AUNT JANE!" I holler back.

"Ouch! Warn me next time you're going to yell. My ears are bleeding," Jane says laughing. She has such a sweet laugh, as opposed to mine which sounds like a dying walrus. She obviously got the better genes.

"Oops. Hazards of calling a mom with kids like mine. Didn't they put that in the warning section of the auntie contract? You should have read the fine print." I tell her, trying to control my own urge to laugh.

"Oh, Lizzy. You know you love being a mom," she says sweetly.

"Sometimes, especially on days when the split pea soup pyramid crumbles, I swear I'm between having a stroke or a heart attack," I grumble.

"Lizzy, you're such a drama queen," Jane says trying to bite down on her giggles.

"No! I'm telling the truth! Sometimes I really feel like I'm having a heart stroke! No lie!"

"Heart stroke?"

"Yeah. You know... having a heart attack and stroke at the same time. Feel free to use it in your medical seminars. Go crazy with it," I continue to rub my temples while she continues to laugh at my pain. "And you know what the worst part of being a mother is?!"

"What?!" she barely gets out, practically snorting with mirth. Clearly I exist for her amusement.

"The worst part is that sometimes when I talk to them, I hear MOM'S voice coming out of my mouth!"

Yes, now Jane is _actually_ snorting. "Oh, Lizzy…" _guffaw, guffaw, snort _"That** is** truly horrible and most definitely merits a heart stroke!" g_uffaw, guffaw, snort_

This call reminds me of when the two of us were little and we shared a bedroom. Not because we needed to, but just because we couldn't imagine being without the other. We would stay up all night, laughing and talking about everything, and about nothing at all.

Now I share my room most of the time with Olive, because she hates sleeping alone. Bad habit, I know, but it keeps her calm, and it reminds me a little of having Jane beside me. And Jane? Nowadays, Jane is sharing her bed with Princess Ariel. Which reminds me...

"Didn't you have a favor to ask me? Aren't you supposed to be on your little weekend getaway with Charles?" Even though it's only been a few months, I guess it's getting serious because Charles invited her to join him and his sisters at one of his Netherfield Resort Hotels.

Well, Jane and Charles may be ready to get serious, but this day has been crazy and I am no where near getting this point, my brain conjures up the image of Charles wearing a Little Mermaid costume, and my giggles can no longer be contained.

"Is there trouble in paradise with Princess Ariel?" _giggle, giggle,_ "I warned you. He's English. And they're all still a little pissed off at us for winning the war!" Now I can't stop laughing, _guffaw, guffaw, _"I bet it's a huge Brit conspiracy, to infiltrate and take over our reality TV obsessed," _snort_, "beer swilling," _guffaw, snort,_ "party loving country!" I'm practically falling out of my chair here.

You remember the part where I said we'd laugh at nothing at all?

She laughs a little bit with me. "Oh, Lizzy…" She drops her voice to a loud whisper, "No, everything's fine with me and Charles… It's just, um…"

"Spit it out, Jane," I say, suddenly serious, because she's brought out her 'I'm about to ask for a really big favor' voice.

"Well… it's just that, um… I... I…" I'm rolling my eyes wishing she would get to the point.

"I threw up on him!" Jane blurts out.

My blood goes cold, remembering all the times I threw up while I was pregnant. Oh, God. Jane. I don't know what to tell her, but thankfully she continues talking.

"I threw up on him Lizzy. It was sooo embarrassing! But Charles was so nice about it. He just carried me into the bathroom and helped me clean myself up. He didn't even seem to notice the vomit on his shirt until he knew I was okay."

"Well... that's embarrassing," is all I could tell her.

"….yes it was…" she says quietly. "I started to feel a little bad this morning at breakfast."

"Oh, Janie," I sigh, "morning sickness just sucks, honey."

"What?!" Jane starts laughing again. "I'm not pregnant, Lizzy! We haven't even… y'know…" Knowing Jane, she's blushing. "I think it was food poisoning from the restaurant."

"Oh…"

"That's the favor I need… I really want you to come and pick me up. Like you said, it was really embarrassing... and I'm not really recovered yet… but I don't want to be a burden to Charles and his sisters and ruin their weekend."

"Can't mom, or Mary… or even Lydia pick you up?" As much as I love Jane, I just got home from the Battle of Split Pea Crossing. All I want to do right now is absolutely nothing.

"I know it's a lot to ask, but can _you_ do it? Please…?" I realize she doesn't want to ask them because she's worried they'd embarrass her in front of Charles and his family.

Sigh. "Can you take a cab?"

"I have no money with me. I forgot my debit card and I already used all the cash I have. And I don't want to borrow money from Charles..." she tapers off, sounding hopeful.

"Fine," I sigh, defeated. "Send me the address of the hotel you're staying at..."

"Oh, Thank you! Thanks you sooo much, Lizzy! I really owe you!"

"You can pay me back in babysitting days."

"Sure thing!" she laughs, clearly relieved. We say our goodbyes and hang up.

Now, who can I get to cover the kids…?

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><p><strong>Please review and tell me what you think since I love to hear your thoughts!<strong>

**And as always thanks to my beta who has the patience of Mother Theresa with me!**

**Thanks for reading!**


	14. Elizabeth Bennet Has The Worst Luck Ever

**A/N: So I got off from work early today, and I was so happy that I decided to update this story!**

**Summary: Elizabeth got pregnant with triplets in a trip to London (They're Darcy's, but sshh he doesn't know that.) She wont tell him because she thinks he used her, plus thinks he would be a horrible father. And he thinks that she doesn't remember him. She lied about her children's age so he wouldn't suspect nothing. And right now she's heading to Netherfield because Jane asked her to pick her up.**

* * *

><p>"The emergency numbers are on the fridge. Do not give soda to the kids. I monitor their soda intake more carefully then the FDA monitors drugs. So, please, do not let them convince you that I allow them to drink soda whenever they want. They are allowed to drink juice, but not at night since that causes cavities. Olive is really allergic to nuts, so please make sure to read the ingredients section before giving her anything to eat. The food in the house should be safe, but if you buy something, please make sure it does not have nuts or was processed in a place that had nuts. She has her Epi-Pen if something does happen. The medicines are in the cabinet beside the silverware, if anything happens, make sure to read the instructions clearly; I don't want you overdosing my children. If they get a fever, run them a bath and call me…no, better yet, take them to the hospital. David is grounded, so he can't play video games. And James…well, he's James, so…yeah. Any questions?"<p>

I look at Richard who is going to babysit them for an hour while I get Jane. I asked them if they wanted to come along but apparently they didn't want to join me in my great adventure.

"Don't worry, they'll be safe with me. You leave them in capable hands. And honestly, it's only going to be one hour. How much trouble could they get in in _one_ hour?"

Tilting my head I give him my 'are-you-serious?' look. Has Richard not met my kids? You leave my kids alone for an hour and they would probably single handily start the apocalypse.

Gosh, I hope I'm not making a mistake by leaving my children with the overgrown child that is Richard. Mary is getting off from work in an hour and Charlotte is working the night shift. And my mother…well, the kids don't want her near them, not even with a ten feet pole. So that only left Richard-I never want to grow up- Fitzwilliam.

"Honestly Lizzy, they'll be safe - who else do you know that will keep your children safe in the case of an emergency?"

That's true.

"We'll be fine, mom." James says trying to calm me down. I look at him and he gives me a reassuring small smile before looking down at the wires sprawled across the dining room table.

"By the way," Richard comes and whispers to me trying to avoid the children listening in to what he's going to tell me, "what are they doing?" He asks nodding to where James and Olive are bickering over the dining room table that is covered in wires, tools and metal things that I don't know the names of.

"We're building a computer that runs by solar panels." Olive responds not caring that the question wasn't directed at her. She says it so simple as if it was normal for ten year old kids to spend their time building solar panel computers.

"Your kids are weird." He says starring at my children, then he laughs when he looks at me. "Then again, their mother is weird." He scrunches up his nose as he looks at what I'm wearing. "Are you seriously going to leave the house looking like that? _At least_ wear jeans."

I look down to what I'm wearing. David's shirt with all the Marvel superheroes on it and yoga pants. I don't see how this is bad. My outfit is comfortable. Big thanks to whoever invented yoga pants. Was I just being lazy all day or did I just come from the gym? The world will never know.

Honestly, best invention ever. They're comfortable and I use them more to lounge around the house than as actual exercise clothes. Because everyone knows I don't exercise, don't have time for that. They make the bridge of staying at home and going out almost nonexistent since I can look nice without looking like I'm a slob. They make me look presentable wherever I go. Because in clothes I only have two defaults: either rocking the clean-face-homeless look or I'm dressed in a pencil skirt and suit with inches of makeup while I work.

There is no in between.

So, yeah, I feel offended that Richard is criticizing my appearance.

"I'm only going to pick up Jane." I respond, "No need to get dressed up."

He just stares at me with his big green eyes, surprised that I have the courage to go out looking like this.

But it's not courage, it's laziness.

Pulling my hair up I continue talking as he continues to stare judgmentally at my appearance. "By the way, Mary is coming in an hour, if I'm not home by then, she's going to take care of them," Don't get me wrong I trust him, but I don't trust him enough to take care of my children properly for longer than an hour.

I quickly put on my flip flops as I dash outside. The quicker I get to Jane the quicker I get back to watch a marathon of America's Next Top Model.

Imagine my surprise when I'm on the road and I enter in the GPS the address to the Netherfield hotel and Siri tells me that I'm two hours away from my destination?

Aww, hell no! Jane can stay one more night with Princess Ariel. I'll pick her up tomorrow. Grabbing my phone I dial Jane to tell her that there is no way in heaven or hell that I'm driving all the way over there this late at night. Okay it's not late, but it's 8 at night and that is late for me.

But I have the worst luck ever because I call her 4 times and the 4 times it goes directly to voicemail.

Well, I could go back home and if Jane complains that I didn't pick her up I can just say that I called her but she never picked up the phone…

But she would stay up all night worrying about why I didn't pick her up, thinking of all the things that might have happened to me.

Ugh, why do I have to have a conscious?

Grumpily and against my will I call Richard to let him know that his babysitting skills will be needed longer since I'm making a short road trip. But I assure him I would definitely be home by midnight.

When I'm 30 minutes away from Netherfield, it starts raining. Just what I needed, the universe is out to get me.

When I'm 15 minutes away from Netherfield hotel, my car starts making a beeping noise informing me that I'm almost out of gas.

When I'm 14 minutes away from Netherfield, my phone battery dies.

By minute 13, I curse myself for not looking and noticing that I was almost out of gas. And now I'm in the middle of the wilderness where there is no gas stations, no nothing.

By minute 12, I pray to god, those drops of gas that I have left in the gas tank can deliver me safely to Netherfield.

By minute 11, I start to wonder who will take care of my children when I'm gone since I'm surely going to die out here. A bear is going to kill me or worst, I might get kidnapped. Are there bears in New York?

By minute 10, I am left stranded beside the road while rain and thunder roll around outside the car. I am left with no transportation, no phone, and no help.

The Universe hates me.

No, this is not hatred this is freaking revenge.

The universe probably remembers I called the sun a slut and now it's out to make me pay.

I have two options right now. Stay here in the car the whole night until someone stops by to offer help, which I don't know if I would accept because they could be a Dr. Hannibal for all I know …or I can walk the few miles that are left to Netherfield… in the rain… and thunder… in flip flops... and yoga pants.

I can't do this. _No, don't think like that_. You can do this. You are a modern 21th century modern woman from New York with southern blood running through your veins. You can get out of this situation.

Before I can chicken out I grab my dead cell phone and car keys and put it all in my purse. I step out of the car quickly locking it and stepping into the wet grass, the coldness of the rain seeping through my clothes. Flip flops were a bad choice, now I'm going to have to walk all the way to Netherfield stepping in cold water and hoping that what my feet are touching is _just_ rainwater and not something else, like frog pee.

_You have to do this,_ Lizzy, _for your children_. They must be worried about you. Lightning flashes and then thunder roars through the skies. I'm going to die here, struck by lightning.

That's how I die.

And all along I thought I was going to die from cancer or a heart attack, but nope I die in a deserted road, wearing a Marvel shirt and yoga pants. There is no doubt about my awaited doom since this definitely looks like the first ten minutes of Supernatural. And everyone knows that whoever they show in the first ten minutes of the show is dinner for whatever monster of the week Dean and Sam are going to kill.

I fight the urge to go hide again in the car. If Debbie can go through med school for her child I can walk through the rain at night for my children. It's only some miles…

I used to be in the track team when I was in high school. If running marathons were a breeze this should be a piece of cake.

It'll be super easy.

* * *

><p>It wasn't easy…<p>

Apparently, I'm really out of shape. Like the 'I-Can't-Even-Do-A-Toe-Touch' out of shape. What was I thinking? I sit in an office the whole day for Pete's sake!

It took me an hour to get to the hotel.

By the time I got there, it was eleven; I was drenched in water and in a horrible mood. My clothes were soaked and my messy bun was definitely messy. The only thing I wanted to do was talk to my children.

…And leave, I also want to leave.

The hotel is beautiful, there's no doubt about it. Charles is definitely loaded, like Richie Rich loaded. I try not to gawk that much because I am no Francine Bennet, but I do stare in appreciation at the grand pillars standing in formation in the lobby. The receptionist is taken abruptly by my appearance but quickly gets her composure back and kindly shows me how to get to the penthouse where Jane is staying at.

And wow... if I admired the lobby, I am left speechless at the penthouse.

And that's how the four people sitting in the room beside the elevator find me, with my mouth wide open as I examine a beautiful vase.

"We're being robbed!" A red headed woman screeches. My skin gets all prickly and my heart almost stops as I look around trying to find the thief. I'm confused of what she means until I realize that she means me, I'm the criminal who is going to rob them.

"Oh sorry, I'm Elizabeth, Jane's sister. I don't know if she told you I was coming?" I quickly tell them trying not to fidget under their fixed and focused stare.

After some seconds that feel like an eternity a petite red headed woman responds with a very thick English accent. "Oh Elizabeth, yes, she told us."

"How is she?" I ask directing my question to the petite woman, who looks like she has the better attitude of the four.

"Sick, I think she contracted a stomach virus from the restaurant we ate at this morning." She answers politely. For someone who is English she seems very nice. "Do you want a towel? It seems as if you walked miles in the rain. And the weather is so chilly, even if it is autumn." She says it as a joke as she goes to a closet that's beside me to retrieve a towel.

"That would be nice, thank you. And actually I did walk." I answer truthfully.

This makes her stop and stare at me. As if she cannot assimilate what I just said. But her manners quickly come back and a smile is plastered in her face as she hands me the towel. She must think I'm crazy.

"My god _Eliza_, you walked here, while it was raining? And just so you could see your sister?" The other taller skinnier red head woman asks like if she cannot understand the idea of doing such a thing.

"Yes, I did."

Okay, it wasn't just to see my sister. I did it more to not spend the night in a car, and to call my children, which reminds me, I need to charge my phone. And also, how soon after I step into someone's house can I ask for the Wi-Fi password? When does society think it's the right moment? These are the questions I wished Google answered.

The tall red head woman just stares at me. I think she's Charles sister, Caroline if I remember correctly. She's probably Darcy's girlfriend. She looks like his type.

I hate her automatically.

And _no_, it's _not_ because she's Darcy's girlfriend… okay, that's probably one of the reasons.

Plus, she doesn't like me if her sour expression is anything to go by.

I look over at the other two men. One of them is blond and tall, around his forties. He looks like he was handsome in his youth but years of drinking have altered his image, his whole persona just screams drunk. And no I'm not being prejudice, I'm actually quite good at reading people, one of the talents I need for my job.

After finishing my analysis of 'blond and tall' I look at the other man towering over everyone else and my breath catches in my throat.

William Darcy is here.

He just stares at me.

I stare at him.

And the weirdest thing is that while I stare at him the only thing going through my mind in repeat is: Damn, Richard was right, I should have _at least_ worn jeans.

Here I am looking like a slob and probably with jelly in my lips from the donuts I ate in the way here. And there he is looking like he got up early went to the gym and totally did something productive. Ugh, he's wearing a fitted dress shirt and dress pants. I bet he ironed his clothes. Yeah, he ironed them. Of course he did, because that fits with his whole obsessive, control freak persona.

He definitely exercises; you cannot have biceps like_ those_ without exercise. I bet he could have walked the miles from my car to here in half my time.

Under dressed is an understatement for the way I feel standing beside these four people who look like they just walked out of a magazine cover. And not the cheap magazine covers, no, I'm talking Vogue. You know you've hit rock bottom when even a drunk looks better then you.

Darcy just keeps staring, his face is unreadable, well maybe unreadable to other people but I know that's his 'I'm-Judging-You-Right-Now' face.

He looks good. Of course he would look good. It's William Darcy. The universe must really hate me. Why couldn't he be bald and fat? Why did he have to look like this after so many years?

He is using his glasses. Ugh, having bad vision has never looked this hot. He looks good for his age; of course he has a few wrinkles, but who wouldn't at his age.

"Can I see her?" I ask the shorter woman as I break my gaze from Darcy.

"Oh, yes, follow me." She motions for me to follow her; I'd be lying if I said that I didn't feel everyone's judgmental eyes on me as I left. But in the bright side thank goodness someone is showing me the way to Jane's room because this penthouse is huge! Just the entry has to be bigger than my apartment.

Well, to be fair, everything is bigger than my apartment.

Finally after making our way through the maze of hallways we stop in front of a blue door. "This is her room. If you need anything else just come and find me, my name is Louisa, by the way." She says kindly as she walks away leaving me by myself.

Stepping Inside I find Jane sitting up in her bed with her suitcase packed beside the bed. She's clutching her stomach and I know she must be fighting a wave of nausea. Charles is sitting beside her as he rubs her back.

"Jane, I'm here." I say, alerting her of my presence. She looks up and smiles her sweet-Jane smile.

"Lizzy, you're here!" She stands up as she grabs her suitcase probably thinking we're leaving. She stops when she notices the state I'm in. "What happened to you?" Her suitcase forgotten and worry etched in her tone.

"Long story short I survived the first ten minutes of Supernatural. A feat, my dear sister, _rarely_ done."

She tilts her head in confusion. I should resign myself to knowing Jane will never understand my geeky references. I sigh as I give her the boring version of the story. "I ran out of gas, had to walk all the way here." I shrug as if walking I don't know how many miles for an hour in the wilderness is something I do every day.

She looks like she wants to ask how I am but then my words catch up to her. "So, this means we're stuck here?" I see Charles eyes light up when she says this.

"Well, I was wondering if Charles would do me the favor of taking me to a gas station so I could fill up my tank and then come get you." I had thought this through as I walked here. It sounds like a really good idea; I know I'm letting Charles' hopes down with this, I know he wants to keep my sister here longer. But I need to return home to my children.

"Yes, sure, if that's what you want." Charles says sadly as he stands up giving Jane a peck in the lips as he leaves us alone. Gosh, he is so far gone. He is hypnotized by Jane like every other guy. My sister is beautiful and nice; she's perfect for someone like Charles.

"So, how was your day?" She asks me as she stands up; she's blushing, trying to distract me from asking about Charles. She's not a big fan of PDA.

I fight the urge to tease her about the small kiss. Instead, I tell her about my day. "Horrible, David embarrassed me and I swear I'm having a heart attack. I'm having chest pain." I start massaging my chest.

Jane laughs already used to my dramatic side. "Are you sure it's not just heartburn?"

"No, my arm has been hurting." I rub my right arm.

"It's your left arm that should be in pain." She says laughing. I glare at her as I start violently rubbing my left arm.

"Well, how about you? I see you and Charles have been getting cozy together." I grin and wiggle my eyebrows as she starts blushing.

Jane, even though with her great beauty, has never had great luck with men. She thought her high school sweetheart was going to be it for her. But instead he dumped her right after taking her virginity on prom night. After him, she started dating a lawyer while she was in college, they lasted about two years until she found out he was two-timing her. After him, it was a Doctor; he was nice, they lasted five years together until work made them drift apart.

So yeah, Jane has had worse luck then I have. Just in her case she was smart and didn't get pregnant.

Jane sits down beside me, reminding me of the time we use to be teenagers and spend our nights talking about boys. "Oh, Lizzy!" She gushes. "Charles is perfect! He's good, just what a man ought to be!"

"Just good?"

"Well, he's also handsome!"

"Hmm…" I say acting like I'm deep in thought. "I can see where you're coming from. I can see how a good, handsome man would be _the_ perfect man; he would be good and… handsome." I say sarcastically.

Jane pushes me playfully.

"It's just… every time I'm around him, I feel like something crawls inside me. I don't know what it is… desire perhaps? Or maybe love?" She starts blushing again at her admission of being in love.

"It's probably just gas."

"Lizzy! Be serious!"

"I am being serious!" I say as seriously as I can before I start laughing.

* * *

><p>"No, I can't go! It's pouring outside. Plus hail is falling." Is the first thing I hear when Jane and I make our way downstairs.<p>

"She wants to leave, so help them leave, Charles." I hear Darcy's baritone, English voice say. Apparently he can't wait to get the Bennets away from here.

That jerk. I wish I could stay just to spite him.

"If you leave those girls stay here any longer the little one might bring inside all of the worlds mud, did you see her clothes? Six inches deep in mud! She was perpetually a mess, Charles." Caroline says with a tone of superiority as she chuckles.

I hate her; I truly and undeniably hate her.

And did she call me '_the_ _little one'_?

I step towards them alerting them of our presence. "Well as Mindy would say 'if I'm going to be a mess-might as well be a hot mess, right?'" This makes Charles start howling in laughter. I try to make a joke out of it, as if what Caroline just said didn't offend me.

"Well you are hot, Lizzy, and you are a mess. So mission complete." Charles says playing along.

"Is everything all right though?" Jane asks them, interrupting whatever Darcy was going to say.

"It's pouring outside." Charles answers her. "It's too dangerous to leave. But I promise you I will take you to the gas station tomorrow."

What? Leave tomorrow? I can't leave tomorrow; I have to leave right now! My children must be worried about me.

"No, you don't understand, Chandler Bing, I have to leave now!" I try to sound as desperate as I can. He has to see the emergency of the situation.

He looks at me confused.

"Chandler?" He asks with a cute confused look at Jane.

"She likes to change people's names." She says simply.

"Well, we can't leave right now." At least he has the decency to sound sorry.

"Let her leave if she wants to." Darcy tells him as he goes and sits in the couch, leaving me only to see his back. Of course he wants me gone. He can't stand me.

Oh, I hate you too, Darcy! The feeling is mutual.

I sigh. "Can I at least use your phone, please? My phone is dead." I explain, sticking out my hand.

"Lizzy, we can stay the night. It's too dangerous to go outside like Charles says. Just call home, he can take care of the children for a night. He is their father; he needs to take some more responsibility."

It takes me a moment to realize that Jane is talking about Richard. Yeah, the children are not Richards's responsibility they are _my_ responsibility. And as their mother _I _should be taking care of them right now. I wonder if it's raining over there. But I can't really explain that to Jane; that would cause more questions than answers.

"You have a husband?" The tall red head woman asks. Caroline. I have to remember her name. "I thought you were single."

I see Darcy's back stiffen at this. Maybe he can't imagine a man who would marry me. I ignore her as I grab Charles' phone and walk towards the hallway to talk to Richard. He answers in the first ring.

"Richard, how are they?" I ask quickly.

"And she's alive!" He says dramatically.

I roll my eyes. "Can I talk to one of them?"

"What, you don't want to talk to me? You wound me, woman!"

"You'll live."

He fakes an exasperated sigh. "Sure, Mary's here, by the way." I hear shuffling through the phone, then I hear crying and my heart stops. Something is wrong.

"Mom, why haven't you called?" James asks mad. "It's been 3 hours since you've been gone!" I hear a voice say 'almost 4 hours' probably David, "almost 4 hours! 4 hours! Where are you!? We were worried about you!"

"Long story. Who's crying?" I say ignoring his question, right now my priority is to know who's crying and why. I think of every horrible scenario that might be causing those tears.

"Olive, she misses you."

"Pass me to her." Is all I tell him, my brain going into mom mode.I hear shuffling and then Olive's timid voice.

"Mommy," she sobs. My eyes start burning. "When are you coming home?" She's crying really hard.

"Oh, baby, I won't make it home tonight but I promise I will be there tomorrow. It's just, I'm out of gas and it's raining over here…"

"I can't go to sleep without you." She sobs.

My heart feels like it's going to shatter. "Baby, you will have to this night. Or maybe you can ask Mary if you can sleep with her tonight."

After some more minutes of discussing with her why, no, I can't call the police so they can drive me home tonight, I ask her to pass me to Richard. I explained to him my predicament and he just laughed his ass off. He said, Karma was out to get me. What better way for me to talk to my sperm donor than the universe making us stay at the same house for a night? After some minutes of him teasing me, I made him pass me to Mary who is the responsible of the two of them, so she could make sure my children were okay. She only listened to me and didn't even laugh at the situation I was in. She promised to watch over the kids… and Richard.

After finishing talking with my children, I walked back to where everyone was gathered sitting in couches.

"Did he accept to taking care of them this night?" Jane asks.

I notice all eyes are on me this time.

My eyes are burning with unshed tears as I think of Olive crying for me. I've never spent a night without them. It's been me and them since I discovered I was pregnant. Even if I arrived home late at night because of work, I've never spent a night without them. It's my first night without them. I want to cry.

Jane must notice this because she hugs me. "They'll be fine." Jane says rubbing my back as her voice soothes me. "You couldn't leave them in better hands. They are with their father after all. He loves them as much as you do."

_Richard is not their father_, I want to yell at her. Both of my babies' parents are in this room, two hours away from them. If there's an emergency I won't be able to reach them quickly.

She looks up at the people who are looking at us. "It's her first night without them." She simply says as if this would explain my misery.

It's preschool all over again.

"Come on." Jane says making me stand up in my feet. "Let's go to sleep." She says dragging me to her room. I don't know what happens but next thing I know, I'm lying in bed nodding off to sleep with Jane's pajamas as Jane sleeps beside me.

* * *

><p>Go to sleep.<p>

Go to sleep.

Go. To. Sleep.

Oh this is useless! Exasperated I turn to where Jane is sleeping beside me, her platinum blond hair gracefully falling in a cascade beside her pillow giving her an ethereal look. And of course she's wearing a white nightgown, giving her an angel appearance even more.

Two a.m. the clock reads. No one should be awake in this ungodly hour.

Two a.m., the time my body unconsciously programmed for me to wake up every night to complete my nightly ritual of checking if the kids are all right. Jane says I'm paranoid. I'm not.

I'm not going to call Richard. I'm not going to call Richard.

I see my phone being charged in the nightstand. Jane must have put it there so it could charge.

I'm not going to call Richard.

The phone is taunting me.

It's calling my name, mocking me, pulling me towards it. And showing me every possible horrible scenario that could be happening back home.

I'm not calling Richard.

I'm. Not. Calling. Richard.

Okay, I'm calling Richard.

I quickly stand up grabbing the cell phone and silently and carefully step out of the room. I make my way through the maze that is Charles' penthouse. Does he have a penthouse in every hotel he owns? I don't think so, he can't be that rich.

But then again he is in Forbes' youngest billionaires list.

I find myself in the kitchen as I dial Richard's phone.

"Hello?" He grumbles sleepily.

"Richard." I whisper, "do me a favor and go check on the boys."

"Lizzy?"

"No, it's Santa." I answer sarcastically.

A deep, raspy, laugh is heard through the phone. "Well, in that case, why didn't you bring me the bicycle I wanted when I was five, you evil bitch?" His voice is hoarse and scratchy from just recently awakening, but his tone is still full of humor. I want to laugh at his accent, who knew his Boston accent got thicker at two in the morning?

"Richaaaarrrrrrrrrd!"

"Fine, fine I'm getting up." I hear his steps as he opens and closes a door. And then opens what I think is the boys' room.

"They're fine, mama bear."

"Can you check that James isn't being suffocated by his blanket? He has a tendency to move around while he sleeps. Once he had the blanket covering his face so I ha-"

"He's fine, can I go to sleep now?" He says interrupting my babble.

"No, now check David. Make sure he doesn't have anything lying around beside his bed. He once broke his laptop by stepping on it when he went to the bathroom."

I hear him sigh. "No, there's nothing around him. Can I go to sleep now? Please? And stop worrying and go to sleep."

"No, you're still not done. Go check on Olive. Make sure she's all right."

He sighs again frustrated. "She's fine. She's sleeping with Mary."

"Go!" I order him.

I wait as I hear him open Olive's bedroom door. "She's fine, both of them are asleep." He whispers as I hear him shut the door again. I let out a sigh of relief.

"Thank you, now can you go check if the door is locked correctly? Sometimes Mary forgets to lock them wh-"

He chuckles as he interrupts me. "Good night, Lizzy." And then he hangs up.

"Jerk." I murmur underneath my breath as I look down at my phone to see that indeed he did hang up on me. Richard must have found my worry entertaining; he must be used to it by now though. He's seen how I'm always looking over them; I can only stop worrying when I see with my own eyes that they're fine. He'll understand once he has children of his own.

Someone clears their throat behind me. Oh great, someone is a witness to my little 2 a.m. routine.

Knowing my luck it must be Darcy.

Turning around I come face with my intruder.

And would you look at that, it's Darcy. I did not see that coming, *cough* sarcasm *cough*

"How long have you been there?" I ask him.

"Since you mentioned your kid moves around a lot while he sleeps." Darcy responds as he opens the refrigerator and takes the milk out.

So he didn't hear me say Richard's name.

But he did hear all the rest of the conversation. Or better yet, what I was saying since I doubt he could hear what was being said at the other end of the line.

I take a moment to study him as he loses his patience opening almost all the cabinets trying to find a cup. He curses underneath his breath as he opens another cabinet door and doesn't find what he was looking for.

He hasn't gone to bed, that much is obvious. He's still wearing the blue button down shirt that he was wearing some hours ago. I try not to notice how the blue shirt makes his eye color pop out more, nor do I notice how the black slacks he's wearing look perfect on him. No, I do not notice any of this.

The only difference is that he's lost the tie and the first two buttons of his dress shirt have become undone. His once styled hair is ruffled up and he is still wearing his glasses.

I take pity on him when he opens another cabinet and still doesn't find a cup. I quickly make my way to the dishwasher and open it to grab a clean cup for him.

"Always check the dishwasher." I tell him as I hand the cup to him. He eyes it skeptically before taking it.

I wonder what he was doing this late at night. I know why I'm up, but why is he?

The silence is awkward. "Humans are the only mammals that continue drinking milk even after they've reached adulthood."

Well, that wasn't awkward at all, Lizzy.

Darcy looks up at me from where he's sitting in a stool in the kitchen island, his blue eyes squinting as if he can't believe I just said something stupid like that. He probably wants me to leave, maybe he wants to drink his milk in peace. Well, Darcy, I didn't want to stay anyways.

I take a step to leave but Darcy stops me. "Wait!" he says almost in a shout. I turn around to see what he wants, maybe he needs me to fetch him another cup, maybe the one he has doesn't meet his standards. You never know what will happen with pricks like Darcy.

Darcy looks nervous all of a sudden, I raise my eyebrow. He opens his mouth and then closes it. If he was just another normal guy I would assume he stopped me because he just wants my company. But this isn't just another normal guy.

"You shouldn't overprotect them that much. You will make them useless human beings if you continue like that."

It takes me a moment to process who he's referring to. And when my brain processes what he just said, all I can think about is that I should have ignored him and walked away. Because now, now I'm mad, no, not just mad, seething mad. Mad that I'm not with my children. Mad that it's me who has to worry about them while William can sleep peacefully. But most of all, I'm mad that he thinks he can give me parental advice. And what does he mean by I overprotect them? Useless human beings?

"Excuse me?" I say offended. Who is he to tell me how to treat my children?

"They're going to be leeches who feed off of someone else if you continue to treat them like babies doing everything for them." He says without a care in the world as he stares at me from where he's sitting.

I hope that milk is expired and gives him diarrhea.

The urge to punch him is colossal, but I try to resist it. "They're little; they can't do everything by themselves! They're just babies! _My_ babies!" I stress the word 'my' even though I know he doesn't understand why I stressed that word out.

"I'm pretty sure, your kid can put his laptop away by himself without you waking up at 2 in the morning to do it for him."

"Well, when you have your own kids, you can tell me how to raise mine. You hypocrite! I bet you would be a terrible father anyways!" I yell as I turn my back to him. Even though these are his kids, but he doesn't know that.

And he _is_ a terrible father.

"By the way," I say turning to face him again, not dropping the subject. "My children are not useless! They clean their own rooms and even wash their own clothes!" I feel proud to say the last part even though yesterday was the first time David washed his clothes… and okay, I finished washing his clothes, but that's not the point.

He looks up at me confused. "I thought you said your children were babies. Isn't your two little ones 3 and 5? How in the world can they wash clothes?"

Damn.

"Exactly!" Is all I say. "That's how independent they are!"

He shakes his head. "You love them too much for their own good."

"You cannot love your child too much."

"Yeah, you can. I've seen many parents love a child so much they grew up to be parasites feeding off of everyone else, because they grew up with the notion that they deserved everything and didn't need to work for it." He looks down at his cup of milk as he whispers the last words. His face contorts into a pained expression as if just by uttering the last few words wound him. But I don't care enough about him to ask him what's wrong.

"Well, I love my children and I would do anything for them."

"Anything?" He asks, as if the notion of a parent doing anything for their child was foreign for him.

"Anything, even be a Debbie and go to med school. I would even lose everything for them… even my pride." And with that said, I walk out of the kitchen and enter the bedroom I share with Jane and replay in my mind every word Darcy and I exchanged. Because even though I can't stand him, and I find his personality atrocious, he is still the father of my children.

* * *

><p>The problem with being a mother is that you have an internal clock that wakes you up even when you don't have to wake up. In my case that's 6 a.m., the time I usually wake up to prepare the kids for school and make them breakfast, if I can.<p>

Jane is still sleeping beside me.

It takes me about ten minutes before I can't stand to be in bed any longer. I can't go back to sleep so I stand up and go to the kitchen. At least I should be productive. I open the cabinets, figuring out what I can do for breakfast. The least I can do is thank Charles with a thank you breakfast. He did let me stay in his house after all.

By the time everyone is awake I have made biscuits, pancakes, bacon, eggs, and oatmeal. Unconsciously I made the oatmeal since that's what I usually make for James who hates bacon…and eggs…and biscuits…and pancakes which he says he does not understand. How can you have something sweet that early in the morning? Oh James.

Darcy is the first to arrive. He looks like he has been up the whole night. He has bags under his eyes, his dark hair is ruffled up. He changed shirts, now he's wearing a wrinkled red t-shirt. But he's still wearing the black slacks; he looks like he should be in a rehab center by the way his eyes are red. I wonder how many days he has gone without sleep.

God, even this sleep deprived he looks so good that it should be illegal. I can see how the shirt he's wearing sticks to his lean body. It must be Charles shirt since it looks like it's a size too small for him.

I know I must be ogling him. I feel bad for doing that. I hate him I'm not supposed to be admiring someone I hate. But, I mean it's not wrong that I admire his body. He is the father of my children after all. How many women can say they still stare at the father of their children after many years?

"Good morning." I say politely. The least I can do is be nice to the father of my children. And considering I yelled at him last night I should at least be polite today.

"Good morning." He responds. He looks uncomfortable talking to me, he must be thinking of a way to politely stop talking to me. Who am I kidding? Darcy has never been polite, I doubt that word even exists in his vocabulary.

He looks at what I just prepared. "You know how to cook?"

Okay, so he doesn't want to stop talking to me. I was wrong about that, but I'm pretty sure he wants to talk to me just to see what other thing he can criticize and judge me for.

I really don't want to talk to him.

"I don't consider that cooking." I say pointing to the food. "I just opened Pillsbury biscuits and put them in an oven, fried the bacon, and made eggs. That's not cooking."

He should taste what I can do if I have enough time to cook a good dinner. Now that is cooking.

"I've never met a woman who could cook." Is all he responds. We stand there awkwardly, not knowing what to say to each other. I understand why it's awkward for me being around him. But why is he being awkward with me? He can't possibly remember? No, he would have told me. Luckily for us Charles, Louisa, and Caroline walk in saving us from an even more awkward moment.

"You cook?" Charles says as he enters the kitchen.

I roll my eyes. "No, the food magically appeared." I say jokingly. He just gives me a dimpled smile. I'm starting too really like Charles, he gets my sarcasm, he's like my sarcastic soul mate.

He grins when he catches sight of all the food, I don't have to tell them the only reason why I learned how to cook was to feed the children. Pre-children I didn't even know how to make Ramen noodle soup. The first years I bought so many recipe books that I would have put Martha Stewart to shame. If it was up to me I would just buy them fast food, but apparently to society it's bad if a mother gives McDonalds to their kids every single day.

"Don't tell me, Eliza." Caroline says, "You're a cook?"

"My name is Elizabeth." I correct her. "And yeah, among other things." I answer truthfully.

This peaks her interest. "What other things?"

"Well, I also clean." And cook, I'm also a nurse, teacher, law enforcer, judge….the list can go on and on.

"Oh, you're a maid." She says looking at me from head to toe.

"You can say that, Carol." I answer back. Not wanting to elaborate that I do not get paid for being a maid. That being a cook and maid is not my actual job. Let her think I'm a maid.

"Well, then," Charles says clapping his hands together, trying to cut the tension. "I know everyone will love the breakfast you just made us." He says happily.

I smile at him. If Jane doesn't keep him I think I will. Just as friends though, he could be 'the nice one' of my friends.

"Except Darcy." Caroline says breaking me away from my thoughts of kidnapping Charles, "He hates eggs."

"They make me nauseous." Darcy explains.

"And biscuits." Louisa adds.

"I don't like the taste." Darcy retorts.

"Nor bacon." Charles says laughing.

"They taste too much like pork, I hate pork."

"He doesn't like pancakes either." The husband of Louisa whose name is Robert adds.

"Those are not pancakes." He says looking at the pancakes in the table.

I frown at that. "Well, you don't have to eat them _Darcy_ if you don't want to, no one is forcing you." I vehemently respond. How dare he offend my pancakes! I'll have him know that his son -David- can't run fast enough towards the kitchen when he smells the aroma of pancakes in the apartment.

"Oh, no, he didn't mean it like that." Charles quickly says when he sees the glares I'm throwing at Darcy's direction. "Where were from, England, pancakes look different from these," he says pointing to the pancakes and clearing up the misunderstanding. "To us pancakes are thinner and look more like what you know as crepes. We eat them with lemon wedges."

Oh.

"Don't feel too offended Elizabeth, Darcy is just a picky eater." Louisa adds.

"I just don't get the point of pancakes; people add syrup to them, why do people eat sweet food for breakfast?" Darcy says aggravated by the teasing everyone is bestowing him.

I choke on the water I'm drinking when he explains why he doesn't like pancakes. They all look at me.

"Do you like oatmeal?" I ask him remembering the oatmeal I unconsciously made "I made oatmeal" I tell him wiping the water dripping from my lips.

"Actually I do."

Like father, like son.

While we're eating, Caroline won't stop talking about her husband.

So, she and Darcy aren't a couple. Apparently Caroline says that she and Darcy were raised like siblings. Her being the sister of Darcy's best friend made them grow up together and be raised together. My hate towards her lessened a little…but just a smidge.

She talked non-stop about her husband whose a senator and daughter whose 10 whose name is Sophia. According to her, her daughter is the most beautiful and talented 10 year old girl to walk the earth. I can argue with her about that but I keep my mouth shut. Olive is much smarter than Sophia, no question about it. But I can't really brag about that without letting everyone know Olive is actually 10 not 3.

Plus, I bet Olive's eyes are much prettier than Sophia's eyes.

She has her daddy's eyes after all…

"Do your children go to a private school?" Caroline asks me breaking me away from my thoughts.

"No public."

She snickers at that. "Well, my Sophia goes to a private school. It is also known as the second best school of New York." She says proudly.

"Why isn't she in the school that is rated first of New York?" I ask her, already knowing the answer to my question. Because Sophia isn't smart enough. My children are in the best school of New York and that fills me up with pride.

I hear Charles choke in his food at this trying to fight back a laugh.

Caroline looks like a deer in front of headlights. No way out.

"Well,_Eliza,_ we're planning on moving her there next year. It's hard getting children to be accepted to be at that school. You'll understand when your children are of age to go there." She says simply as she takes a sip from her tea.

Yeah, right.

Good luck with getting her in the school. No amount of money will be able to get your dear Sophia in there.

"Everyone knows my dear cousin Sophia isn't in my school because she's stupid." A voice says from behind me. I turn around and find two blonde boys around my children's age standing there.

"Hi." The one who spoke up says to me. "I'm Robert Hurst and this is my cousin." He says pointing to the other kid beside him who is much shyer.

"This is my son Robert." Louisa says as she points to the blonde boy who is staring at me like if he knew my secret. "And this is my nephew Matthew."

"Or as we call him Matt." He says slapping his cousins back.

"You're in the number one school of New York?" I ask them nervously. Not daring to say the name of the school out loud. If I say it out loud the truth would look more real.

"Both of us are." He says with a wicked smile.

He must know the triplets. Do they know I'm their mom? They must know by the way Robert is smiling at me and Matt is looking down at the floor not wanting to meet my gaze.

"But we're not the smartest of the school. We used to be. But not anymore." He looks straight at me as he says the next words. "Now, the smartest children there are the triplets." His voice is full of envy.

Okay, so they _do_ know.

"I was wondering," Robert says to me, "if you could help me with something in the kitchen," he says politely.

All the adults look at him as if he said the strangest thing. Why would he be asking me for help? He barely knows me. But I know he knows and he knows I know he knows…ok, that was confusing.

I stand up, trying not to seem nervous as I walk to the kitchen. Both of them guide me far away from the prying ears of the adults in the dining room.

"Okay, what are you hiding?" Robert automatically says. Straight to the point. If he was not a threat to me, I would like this kid.

This kid underestimates me. I live with David. This kid has a devious mind but no one is as devious as my middle son. I'm used to blackmail. And I know these kids want something. I will not let myself be blackmailed by some kids. I don't tolerate it with my children, so I damn as well won't tolerate it from random annoying children.

Now I remember why I didn't' like children.

"What makes you think I have something to hide?" I ask him nonchalantly.

"Well, how can I explain this?" he says taking a step towards me. He talks like an adult. "I know that you're hiding the fact that you're children are triplets. We also know they are not little. They are our age after all," he points to him and his cousin who is just standing silently next to him. "Now, if you don't want us to tell my family out there, you will invite us to spend a weekend at your home and also will convince your children to make both of us their project partners."

Now I understand when Olive mentioned she didn't like Robert because he was a bully. He is a bully. I don't like him.

"Look, you little booger," I tell him standing up as tall as I can in front of him trying to intimidate him. But he doesn't even flinch. I kind of admire this kid. "You will not tell them anything. Or better yet you can tell them whatever you want. Who do you think they will believe you or me?" I tell them giving him the best mom voice I can muster. "And anyways, I heard you hate my children; why would you want to spend the weekend with them?"

"Duh, they're the smartest kids in a school where being smart is the ultimate thing. I need to get a good grade in that project and I know they will get the best grade in class. And I don't know if you know this, but if we asked them," he said pointing to his cousin and himself, "they won't let us be their project partners. James and Olivia always do everything together. They're inseparable. So we need your help to make them work with us. But anyways, I'll figure out what you're hiding, and then you will do what we want. Come on, Matt, I'm hungry." he tells his cousin as they leave, leaving me standing there not knowing what to do. I don't think they will figure out my secret. They're not smart enough….

…then again Olive did say they were geniuses…

I go back to my seat as I eat my food in peace even though I know everyone is staring at me. Wanting to know what those two criminals wanted with me. Even Jane who has come down while I was in the kitchen is staring at me.

I hear someone snap their fingers. "I know you looked like someone." The future juvenile delinquent named Robert tells Darcy.

Oh no, this can't be good.

"Are you by any chance related to someone named Richard?" he asks him.

Oh god, no…

Darcy blinks. "Yes, I am. How do you know my cousin?" he asks confused.

How do they know Richard? This is not happening. I'm dead. That's it; I'm getting killed, I better start figuring out whose going to take care of my children.

"Oh, he came by to our school in career day. Talking about being an FBI agent," Matt says starring at his cousin, telling him to shut up with his eyes. I like that kid.

I know Richard did no such thing of going to their school. He barely has time for anything. He's always working. These two kids must think Richard is the father of the triplets. He must have heard Olive call him Dad.

Robert grins at me and motions his hand as if telling me if I want to add something to the conversation.

That little bastard. He's figured out that Darcy is related to the triplets, not in the way they think but still they know he doesn't know that the triplets are his family members.

"Louisa," I say, she looks at me shocked that I'm speaking to her ,"do you think I could have Robert and Matt over for next weekend in my house? My oldest child is having a little trouble in school and… well, Robert and Matt offered to tutor him."

I'm so sorry, James, for saying this. He would throw a fit knowing that I lied and told someone he was doing badly in school.

"Sure, I'll ask their nanny if they have something to do that weekend, but if not they're all yours," she says simply.

I stare shockingly at her. I didn't know she would consent. If I was her and some stranger asked me if they could have my children over for a weekend, I would laugh in their faces.

I look over at Robert who is smiling like a little devil at me. He got what he wanted.

* * *

><p>The lights go out. The thunderstorm that started last night still continues today. We're in the library right now. With nothing to do, Charles and his 2 sisters and brother-in-law are playing cards. Darcy is using the last of his laptop battery life to write an email to his sister to let her know that he's all right. Jane is sleeping her nausea away and well …I'm reading, or better yet re-reading a book.<p>

I want to leave. Don't get me wrong, Charles is awesome, his family… not so much. Caroline thinks I'm the dirt underneath her shoes. Louisa is… polite and her husband is…well… he's one of those guys who have had everything since his childhood. He's probably an heir to his father's company so I don't think he works. Probably has a monthly check his father gives him from the company.

Oh yeah… and they're all British.

Yippee…

And don't even get me started on Darcy. He has ignored me completely since the little argument we had last night in the kitchen. Apparently I'm not a good mother. Well, buddy, out of us two who is the one taking care of our children? Yeah, me. So, who's the bad parent? Ten points if you get this right.

"Darcy, can you fix my mobile? It doesn't want to work." Caroline whines. God, I hate her voice. Even though I have to admit people whining in an English accent sounds very sophisticated.

Darcy looks annoyed and irritated at Caroline. Probably mad she took him away from tapping away in his computer. But still he takes Caroline's phone away from her hand and quickly opens it up after some minutes he gives her, her phone back. Good as new.

How did he do that?

He probably works in an IT department.

That sounds about right. Olive does like computers… and robots…

"Oh, when the light comes on, can you check the refrigerator? The ice doesn't work." Charles tells him without looking up from his cards.

He fixes refrigerators to? I should make him take a look at my refrigerator that is having the same problem, but if he fixes computers and refrigerators that means…

Ok, not an IT department worker.

"Are you a mechanic?" I ask him from where I sit.

This startles him, he looks confused by my question. Caroline starts laughing. I don't know why my question is funny. He knows about cell phones and refrigerator's I'm guessing maintenance man.

"You can say that." Darcy finally responds while Caroline still laughs.

"Oh, Eliza, you truly don't know who William is? You surely can't be that naive!"

Should I know where William works at? Maybe he works with Charles.

"Oh, I know William very well, _Carol." _Very, _very_ well actually, maybe even better then you.

She looks like she wants to say something but Darcy beats her. "I have a Ph.D. in computer science and mechanical engineering…among others."

Ph.D…. among others… oh my goodness Darcy is smart. I don't know why this news shocks me. Of course he would be smart. His offspring are smart. I'm a smart woman but the kids are scary smart, they must have inherited from him.

And now remembering, Richard did say that his cousin was smart. Something about how he could make the Terminator happen in real life…

Good thing, he's not a homeless thug. My mother would be so proud.

"How's your new computer design coming? I heard you working last night. I thought we agreed you wouldn't work this weekend and just relax."

Computer design?

"Working relaxes me." Is all Darcy responds typing away in his laptop.

Working relaxes him? Working stresses me!

"Eliza, are you sure you don't want to join us?" Caroline asks me pointing to the card game her siblings, brother-in-law and herself are playing.

Yeah, no. I hate cards. Plus, sitting beside her does not sound attractive.

"No, thank you, I have better things to do."

"Oh, like what?" She asks.

"I have to brush my weave." I say simply. Charles starts laughing but covers it up with a cough.

"Funny." Is all she says as she stares at me as I continue reading.

But unfortunately she won't leave me alone. "Such an avid reader. Is reading your only enjoyment? Or do you have another hobby?" God, I only want to be left alone! Can't they understand that?

I think about not answering her question and ignoring her but I know that would just be rude. So I think of an answer. My hobbies? Having three kids left me with no hobbies. Thank you, William, for that, you and your extraordinary sperm got me pregnant. Hobbies… hobbies…I try to think of something. But when I have free time I usually spend it reading or watching TV. My hobbies include Pinterest, Instagram, Tumblr, YouTube…the list can go on and on. But I can't really tell her those are my hobbies.

"I like to run and walk. Especially if it's in the woods, I love the woods." I answer thinking of my time in high school and when I would visit my mother's family.

"Oh, that's nice – the outdoors." Satisfied with my answer she turns her attention towards William. "Didn't you once tell us William that those are 2 qualities you liked in a woman, an avid reader and someone who enjoyed the outdoors?"

William has a list of things he likes in a woman? Now this is interesting.

"Shut up, Caroline." He tells her harshly.

Oh, no, do keep talking, Caroline. I'm quite enjoying this.

Luckily for me she won't shut up.

"Also, she must be talented. I remember that. Someone who is funny and quirky, who won't be embarrassed to do embarrassing stuff. Who wouldn't care for what others think. Someone who knows how to have fun, she must be beautiful and smart. Must be accomplished in her career, she must know more than one language and she must know how to play the piano. And there must be something in the way she walks…"

"Caroline, shut up." William says a little bit louder now.

"But overall she must have an air to her…." Caroline finishes, ignoring William and his commands.

"An air of what?" I ask.

"Oh, I don't have the slightest idea of what he was talking about. I'm just repeating."

I turn to see Darcy who is glaring at Caroline. "Oh, no wonder you're still single Darcy. There is no woman like that out there."

He looks up at me from behind his glasses, his icy blue eyes staring at my brown ones.

"Are you so judgmental of your own sex that you believe that no woman like that could exist?" He asks, his eyes never moving away from mine.

"Well, when you find this fierce creature, please say hi from my part." I say trying not to laugh.

He lifts up his eyebrow noticing that I'm teasing him.

"Oh Darcy, please do say hi to Georgiana from my part." Caroline says as she puts down a card in the table.

Georgiana… that's his little sister's name, the girl who has a doll named Olivia. I wonder if Georgiana would get along with Olive… no, Lizzy, don't think of that.

Darcy just nods in response to Caroline. I don't even know if he even heard what Caroline said.

"And please, do put your contacts on. You look far too old with those glasses on." Caroline reprimands him like if she was his mother.

I actually like his glasses, he doesn't seem old with them like Caroline says.

"How old are you?"

"He's 2 years older than me." Charles responds for him.

As if that could help me figure out Darcy's age.

"I'm 38." Darcy responds.

38, he's 38. He looks good for a 38 year old man. I stare at him from behind my book. He hasn't shaved today. So he has stubble. I usually hate it when men don't shave. But he looks good. He looks so much like James…and Richard is right – Olive looks exactly like her daddy…well aside from being a guy.

Why couldn't the kids look like me? That way I would never get reminded of him.

"Eliza," Caroline says breaking me away from my starring, "my legs are falling asleep, would you keep me company as I walk around the room?"

I don't know why she would need company but I consent and walk beside her. "Care to join us, William?" She asks Darcy.

"No, I'm fine where I'm sitting; I have a much better view from here."

View? What does he mean view? Does he mean us? No, he can't be talking about us. Caroline is married and well… he hates me.

"Oh, naughty Darcy!" Caroline laughs at a private joke. "How shall we punish him, Eliza?" Caroline says as she looks at me as we were great friends trading a secret.

"We can tease him." I respond. I would love to tease Darcy. Make him suffer as he has made me suffer these past years.

She gasps. "Tease Darcy? Never! He has no faults to tease, so we can't do that. Plus, he would get mad."

No faults, huh?

"Do you honestly have no faults, Darcy?" I ask him going to stand where he's sitting down in a couch, typing away in his laptop. He looks up at me with those mesmerizing eyes of his that tempt me to act just the way I did with him almost 11 years ago.

"Everyone has faults, Bennet." He never takes his gaze from his laptop.

I stay by his side pressuring him to elaborate.

He sighs as he takes off his glasses and pinches his nose. He even makes taking off glasses look sexy. "Something you should know about me, Miss Bennet, is that there are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or sense."He looks down at his hands as he starts to twirl a piece of napkin he had in his hands. Olive does that.

What horrible way to live. I get what he's saying – that he can't trust people to be who they appear to be, but to love so few people? I just don't know how I could live like that. Thinking ill of everyone I meet. Not giving anyone the benefit of the doubt? That just sounds horrible. I could not possibly live like that. Such a bitter man he is. He has no hope, nor trust towards people, and prefers to cut himself away from society.

"I have faults enough." He continues saying. "But I hope that no one knows about them. My temper is a big flaw of mine and one I dare not vouch for. Another thing is that I cannot forget the bad doings of others towards me, nor their offenses against myself. My temper could be called resentful. I suppose my flaw would be that once my good opinion of someone is lost, it's lost forever."

Like my boys. Well, at least he will understand why his sons hate him. Once he meets them…if he ever meets them.

"Ah, pride such a horrible fault." I say. Because what he's explaining is pride.

"Pride is not a fault, Bennet."

"So, would you consider pride a fault or a virtue?" I ask him trying to make him see the logic of his thinking.

"Pride is not a flaw." He retorts, he starts typing again.

"So, you're telling me that Pride is not a flaw? Well, if pride is not a fault, then it must be a virtue. And I don't know if you know this, but to society pride is defiantly not a virtue." I say smugly.

"Pride is the only thing keeping a beggar from being a thief." He looks me directly in my eyes. "So, tell me, Bennet, after knowing this, do you think pride is a flaw or a virtue?"

Well damn he's using my question against me.

"It's a flaw when he dies from starvation." I answer pointedly.

"No, if he dies from starvation then he would be an idiot. There are many ways to feed ourselves, many charities one could take. That's why he's a beggar, is he not? To find money the correct and honorable way without stealing." He replies as he reclines himself in the couch.

"Oh, Darcy," I say chuckling. "You are one funny guy."

"And even if you find pride a flaw, just think of what pride is." He keeps on saying, not dropping the subject, wanting to at least beat me in this discussion. "It's one's self-respect, the feeling that we are worth something. Pride is initiative that gives a teenage girl the will to dump her cheating boyfriend. The reason why she feels she is worth something and not tolerate that behavior. That's what pride is. So think about that, Bennet, do you think the self-respect that girl has is a flaw or a virtue?"

"Well, as someone very wise said: pride comes before destruction."

He tilts his head. "Who said that? Ghandi?"

I resist the urge to laugh. "No, it's from the bible, so I imagine God said it. So, you know if God said it, it must be true."

"Well, I'm an atheist."

He stares at me as if he could see deep within me. I stare back. I want to argue with him. Beat him in this discussion. Change his view of pride. But I know that he is stubborn. And just thinking of continuing this fight all day tires me.

"Oh dear, I believe I cannot tease you about that. And it's a pity since I really wanted to laugh." Is all I say as I return to my seat and grab my book. After some minutes I look up to him and say, "Darcy, just remember no one has ever chocked to death swallowing his pride." I say smiling at him.

He doesn't even look up at me just continues to tap away.

Jerk.

"How bad is your vision?" Caroline asks randomly after some minutes of silence.

"Excuse me?" Darcy asks perplexed at her sudden outburst.

"Which one is your bad eye, the right one or left?" she asks him.

My nose is stuck at my book, so I don't even look up when I say, "Right." I answer automatically thinking of Olive's bad eye.

They have the same poor eyesight, since Olive didn't inherit that from me.

I bet bats have better vision then them.

"How did you know that?" Darcy says now looking at me. He looks confused as to why I would know his right eye would be the one with his poorest eyesight.

"Uh… well… you see…" I try to think of something, anything, "there is this study that says that a majority of the people with glasses have very poor eyesight in their right eye," I say quickly trying to save myself from questions.

Everyone looks like they don't believe me. I wouldn't even believe myself.

"Ah yes… I remember reading it. The right eye study, right?" Darcy asks me.

"Yes!" I answer too quickly, glad that at least a study that says that exist. Everyone is still looking at me. "I'm going to go to my room and pack." I tell them as I stand up and leave the library trying to avoid their curious gazes. That was the worst excuse I've ever used. Pack? Really? I didn't even bring anything!

I walk and walk to where I think me and Jane's bedroom is at. But of course I have the worst luck ever, so when I open the door that I _think_ is my bedroom instead I find a bathroom.

I start cursing underneath my breath when I turn around and hit a hard body. My hands automatically hold on to him so I won't fall. Please, let it be Charles. Please, let it be Charles.

It's not Charles.

Instead of the dark blue eyes I'm looking for I find Darcy's aqua blue eyes staring down at me.

He has abs… is all I can think about when I look into his eyes. I definitely touched abs, hiding underneath that swimmers body type is abs. My hands move away from him but I can still feel how he felt underneath my hands.

Strong.

"Hi…you… what's up?" This is so embarrassing. I want to dig myself a grave. Hi you? Really? Ugh, I embarrass myself.

He keeps on starring. "Did you know that Texas is the only state that allows its residents to vote from space?" I ask him.

I hate my mouth. I swear, I suffer from Tourette's syndrome.

I rock myself with my heels. "So, right eye theory, you read it, too, huh?" I ask him trying to make this situation less awkward. Trying to make conversation with him until I can find an exit route.

"No, I didn't." he answers.

Say what?

"You didn't…Then you must have seen it on TV, huh?" Please, say you saw it in TV!

"No I didn't." He keeps staring at me, probably looking at all the flaws in my face. "That theory doesn't exist. So, tell me, Bennet, how the hell do you know my right eye has the poorest eyesight? No one knows that except my doctor." The way he looks down at me tells me he wants an answer. And he wants the answer _now._

"Oh, is that Jane?' I say looking behind me, faking hearing Jane call me. "YES, JANE, I'M COMING!" I yell at her. I turn around to see Darcy still expecting an answer, "well, it was nice talking to you, Darcy, but my sister needs me." I tell him as I walk backwards.

He smirks. "Bennet, your sister's room is over there." he says pointing to the opposite direction of where I'm going.

I'm the worst liar ever! And I said Jane couldn't act. Apparently bad acting skills run in the family.

Well, there goes my Oscar acceptance speech I wrote when I was little.

"I knew that but I wanted to see if you knew that," I say stupidly, I slowly start to go the other way he mentioned and then I run.

I know I'm a coward. But, a smart coward none the less.

* * *

><p>It was 4 o'clock in the afternoon when finally Charles was able to take us to the gas station and to my car.<p>

When I arrived home I found the house a mess. I should have expected this. My eyes roam the living room, finding empty Capri sun pouches lying around. The kitchen was a horrible mess with pizza boxes open, and the dining room was the worst of all. Richard was standing over a table that used to have Olive and James solar panel computer holding a fire extinguisher. So, they almost burned down the house. How am I not shocked by this?

"What happened?" I screamed at them as I walk to my table now with a burned spot on it. My beautiful table… ruined.

"There is a glitch in the computer and I don't know how to fix it," James responds sadly as he looks down at his hard work that is destroyed. How do I treat this? Should I punish them for pursuing knowledge? I mean, accidents happen.

"By the way," Richard says, "I took them to Chuck e Cheese because the commercials look fun and they say 'it's where a kid can be a kid.'"

Oh god, no. I know where this story is headed already.

"You're children are weird," he says looking directly at Olive and James. "They fixed a machine that wasn't working. On the bright side they gave us unlimited tokens for the day because they fixed it. David and I had a lot of fun."

"We're not weird!" Olive tells Richard with a glare.

"Of course you're not, sweetie," I go and walk to where she's at wearing a pretty blue dress that I do not remember buying. I hug her tightly, "you're just different from other children."

"They spent the whole time we were there fixing machines" he tells me pointedly. "Oh, by the way, I took them to the mall also."

I look up at him. "Why?" As far as I know they don't need any new stuff.

"Lizzy, you do know that you have boys, right?"

I don't get to ask what he means by that when Olive interrupts us. "Isn't my new dress pretty, Mom? Daddy bought it for me!"

"That's nice, sweetie. Now, Richard what do you me-"

"Oh, so you're the famous Elizabeth Bennet!" An older man voice says interrupting me yet again. I look up at the owner of the voice. He seems old, probably around his late 50's or early 60's. He's dressed in a suit and he exudes money. He has bright green eyes filled with humor. I would bet his gray hair used to be black. He is being followed by David.

He looks like an older version of David.

Without him presenting himself, I already know who the man standing in front of me is.

"Mom, meet our grandpa!" Olive says excitedly.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I know this chapter wasent that great, but guys I updated this story and I'm really proud! This chapter has a lot of backstory about what's going to happen in the future, its preparing the ground for the next chapters to come. I know kind of long but it had to be done. **


	15. Little Secrets And Other Problems

**I'm not dead! I know it's been a long time, like a realllllyyyyy long time. I actually just arrived from Hong Kong, which btw is now one of my favorite cities of the world. Well technically I was in Kowloon but that's Hong Kong right? I am so bad in geography. Anyways I have a lot of questions like a lot from people that need answers.**

**One of the questions that you guys ask the most is why has Elizabeth not told Darcy. Okay, so I'm with you guys in this, I like stories in which Elisabeth tells Darcy immediately. But this story is about the things Elizabeth does to hide the fact that she had his children. I think I will have to rewrite the summary a little more with that description that way the people who don't like these kinds of stories don't start the story and then get mad when she doesn't tell him right away. Also it might seem like a long time has passed since she has finally seen Darcy again after 11 years but actually its only been like 3 months. Which I know is still a lot.**

**By the way I know their might be some inconsistencies to the story, but its because I forget sometimes what I have even written since the time gap between chapters is super long. I'm a lazy writer. I started writing this story because of school so I would stop being such a lazy writer and improve my grammar, and now im just writing it because I need to finish it. I cant leave you guys hanging.**

**Y si hablo español, fue algo que mi mama me hizo aprender porque ella es mitad Española. Y no queria que sus hijos perdieran su herencia. Desafortunadamente no lo se escribir muy bien. Pero si lo se leer muy bien, nada mas tengo prolemas cuando lo escribo. Es que cuando mi mama me estaba enseñando a escribir no le puse mucha attention. Y cuando tuve la opcion de tomar el curso de español en la escuela no lo tome y preferi tomar portugese porque se me hacia mas facil. Ahora lo lamento porque pude aver mejorado mi español, aunque todos los que me escuchan hablar español me dicen que hablo perfecto español y hasta sueno como si naci y creeci en un pais de habla español.**

**But anyways thanks to everyone who has kept reading this story. **

* * *

><p>I shouldn't feel nervous, not at all. I mean I'm a grown adult having a mature adult dinner with my children's family.<p>

So there is no reason why I should be biting my finger as I look nervously around the table and the people occupying the seats. I think the reason why I feel so nervous is because Richard's father has not said a word to me since we've been introduced. He only talks to the children and when he's not talking to them he is just staring at me when he thinks I'm not looking, and also examining like if I was some sort of award winning cow at the county fair.

So yes I'm nervous.

Okay, extremely nervous.

Well actually he did say something. Right after we got into his car to come here he looked at me and said, "My, you're extremely young". I don't know it was suppose to be an offense or a compliment. He was using one of those monotone voices your 8th grade algebra teacher would use when he would notify you that you were failing his class. Is it a joke? Or are you for real? Because last time I checked I think I aced that quadratic equations exam. Anyways, getting back on subject I took his comment as a joke. Well I hope he understood my joke. I just responded, "Moisturize me!" I think he didn't get my Doctor Who reference since he just scrunched his eyebrows. Which is embarrassing for him since he should know 'The Doctor', I mean come on he's English he should watch Doctor Who.

I think Richards's dad sees me as an immature child-like adult.

Which I'm not… I swear I'm not.

I just have a 'strange' sense of humor as my mother calls it. I just hope he gets it soon enough because humor and sarcasm are my only means of communication.

The things got worse when we got to the restaurant. There I was all nervous of seeing Darcy's uncle who looked like he had more money than Oprah by the way he was being treated. But I know how much trouble my children are in a public setting. I'm not hiding it, I know they're trouble and I admit it. If they act horrible in McDonalds there's no chance they will behave properly in a five star restaurant.

Not that they're bad children…they're just…special.

They're not children who are rude or misbehaved or even the type of unruly children you will find at your vacation hotel their just…..scratch that they are rude. They just have no communication skills. Well David can talk your ear off and when I say ear off I literally am saying you will cut your ear off to stop hearing him. By the end of a day with him you will have a massive headache the size of Everest and thinking how many aspirin you can take before you overdose. Not to mention you will have said the weirdest shit ever. I never thought I would say, 'no you may not put the cat in the dryer', 'yes I'm pretty sure cats do not like to be stuck in the dryers', 'yes even if the dryer is off' or even have to explain why it's an idiotic idea to jump off of a roof even if the building is only a two story high.

And well James Fitzwilliam has no idea how special they are or what is ahead of him.

Even though I was threatening them all throughout the ride here that if they didn't behave serious consequences would be taken when we reached the house again, mostly concerning video games, computers, and books.

But it really didn't work.

It all went downhill the moment we got to the table.

Actually no, it was the moment we passed through the front doors. Richard grabbed me by my arm and pulled me aside telling me quickly that he never told his dad anything that he just popped out of the blue in my door and started talking with the children. He hasn't said a single word to Richard yet. I asked him if his father knew how my children were related to him. He just gave me a 'duh' look, and of course my question is stupid; anyone can tell they are Darcy's children.

When we finally got to our table the children at first were all right, they were just gazing around the place with their curious big blue eyes. James Fitzwilliam smiled and called them little angels. I snorted and accidently got water stuck up my nose. And even though it sounds like it doesn't hurt. It actually does. Water even though is not an acid feels like if it's burning a hole through your nose. I was expecting any minute the smell of burning flesh.

Everyone says I'm a drama queen, which I deny. But as I tried to act like this was a normal thing that I was actually not trying to figure out if the smell of steak was coming from the table beside us or if it was my burning flesh because I had heard that human meat taste like veal so burning flesh must smell like steak. But anyways as I was stuck in this thought I had an epiphany.

James Fitzwilliam was here today for a reason. There was no doubt about it, he must be here because of Darcy. I don't know how Darcy found out but he did and he sent his uncle. James Fitzwilliam was here to steal my children. As I realized this I stood up quickly trying to fight back the urge to grab the kids and run or just lean over the table and interrogate him 'The Godfather' style. None the less I stood up quickly making a waiter who was walking by spill a glass of wine in my dress.

Everyone stared.

My beautiful dress that Janie bought me was ruined. I wanted to cry. She had spent her free time trying to find me the perfect dress so I could go out in a date with one of her coworkers.

It didn't go well.

The only reason I accepted to go on a blind date was because the only knowledge that I have of doctors comes from Greys anatomy, so obviously I though thought I was going on a date with someone of the likes of McDreamy.

He looked nothing like Patrick Dempsey. Plus he gave me a lecture about sugars and asked if I had taken a test to see how my cholesterol was. Dr. McDreamy turned out to be Dr. Are-You-Sure-You-Want-So-Much-Dessert?

Then there was the big fact that he had zero interest in me and was more interested in talking about Jane and what kind of guys she liked.

Prick.

Anyways after some minutes of the waiter apologizing and trying to help me clean myself everything went back to normal, or as normal as it could go back too. The oldest Fitzwilliam looked at me like if I was a child. But if he only knew that the children he called angels actually fight every day about where each of them is suppose to sit in the car. The argument could go on for hours, each of them accusing each other of crossing the line that suppose to mark each car seat. It's an endless war that I don't have energy to battle daily.

It's when the food got to our table that my children started to show who they really were. David was the best behaved during our diner believe it or not but he usually is when it comes to eating. James of course is the picky eater and Olivia will eat about 70% of what I put in front of her. And if she becomes a vegetarian for that day which happens almost twice weekly then that percent can go down to 30.

Fortunately for me today Olivia was not a vegetarian but unfortunately for me there was a person who was coughing in the nearest table to us, not constantly that would be a big deal but it was enough that my two germaphobic little cubs noticed.

And boy did they notice.

"Mom I can't eat with that bag of germs sitting beside us." said my oh so sweet James.

I gave an apologetic look to the man because when my children are mad they can talk loud enough for anyone close enough to listen. I looked at James and gave him my best mom stare. The one that says, -Shut-Up-And-Eat-Your-Food-Before-I-Forget-I'm-In-A-Public-Place-.

He shut up; he's a smart boy but looked quite mad as he looked down at his untouched food. I knew there was no way I was going to get him to eat the food. But Olive clearly didn't see my little interaction with her older brother because she quickly opened her mouth and said "I'm not eating my food either did you know mom-"

Now this is going to be fun every time a child starts a conversation with 'did you know' then you know you're in for a ride.

"That a single cough can expel about 3,000 drops of saliva? And some of them can go about 50 miles per hour. So our food can be covered in tiny drops of saliva from that man and we would never notice. Not to mention mucus. And that man has coughed twice already since we've gotten our food. I've counted." she said proudly.

I want to die.

Everyone in the restaurant surrounding Olive glared at me since they decided that I was the one responsible for the little show. I resisted the urge to yell at them to get down from their high horses like if they don't have children.

I quickly whispered to James and Olive that if they did not eat their food I was going to do terrible things to their Wi-Fi. They told me if they got sick with the black plague or malaria then it was going to be my fault. I had to reassure them that the black plague was very rare and malaria last I heard was only transmitted by mosquitoes. That didn't calm them down as they started to mention all the air borne diseases. Which I didn't know to be proud they were smart enough that they knew all those diseases or be worried. They calmed down after I told them that I saw the man cough both times the other way. Which was true.

But then my daily battle with them began. James had mashed potatoes in his plate the only thing I knew for sure he liked. But of course he had to tell me that he would not eat them because they had sprinkled something green on top of them. I quickly took the chives out but of course he had to say that he couldn't eat it anymore because they had been contaminated by the evil chives.

That's when Olive started crying because her food was touching. I usually separate her food when we're at the house because I know how bad she will get if she sees her food touching. But of course I forgot to tell the waitress that she likes her food in polar opposites of the plate and no sauces mixed together because you know that's how 'normal' people order there food.

So there I am trying to separate her food while she tells me in between sobs that what I'm doing won't work that the food is ruined.

Finally since I had no energy to fight with them I just dropped what I was doing and told them exasperated that if they didn't want to eat I wouldn't make them but they better not dare bother me when we got home telling me they were hungry.

I had forgotten I was in a restaurant with Richard and his father until I heard laughter coming from them. They hadn't said a word as the scene unfolded in front of them. James Fitzwilliam probably wanted to see how I handled the situation.

So yeah I'm nervous. I'm extremely nervous as I sit here eating dinner with the Fitzwilliam's.

"It's a mild OCD." Richard's father says breaking me from my thoughts.

"Excuse me?" I ask confused as to what he's saying and also surprised that he's speaking to me.

"What your daughter and son have with the food, it's a mild OCD." He glances to where there at as Richard tries to talk to them already use to their quirks.

"Oh I knew that." I respond as I look down at my plate. I don't really want to talk to him since I really don't need a show in the middle of this restaurant.

He must be here to take them away from me.

I can see it in the way he stares at my children. I myself have had that look in my face when I'm fighting for the custody of a child in the courthouse and I'm about to drop a big evidence about why the dead-beat of the dad should not have parental visits.

"I noticed that you didn't make them order salad is there a reason behind that?"

Great, small talk, I really don't want to talk. I know the real questions he wants answered. And why I don't feed my children salad is not one of them.

Or maybe he's trying to get evidence against me. I would do that, if I was in his position. I look up at him and see an actual sincere face so I answer sincerely also before I know what I'm doing. "I don't like salads, and I certainly don't eat them. So I think trying to make them eat salads when I'm not even putting the example is a little hypocritical of me. Don't you think?"

He starts chuckling at my answer.

He looks over at the children who won't eat their food. Even after all of Richards coaxing. I know that when their in that attitude it's just better to leave them alone. They'll get hungry soon.

"Darcy also had that problem when he was a child, but he grew out of it." He says still trying to continue the conversation.

I want to laugh, last time I saw Darcy -which was earlier today- he was still a picky eater. If he's anything like his son his food pyramid consists of chicken nuggets, macaroni, and pop tarts for dinner.

"I just want to know why?" He says calmly.

"Why Darcy grew out of being a picky eater?" I know this is not the question he's asking, but I'm stalling not wanting to answer his real questions.

He leans forward as close as he could get with a table in between us. I can smell his expensive cologne as he whispers harshly with no amount of humor. "Why do you have 3 children that look like my nephew? And why does he not know about this little…" he looks towards the triplets again as he raises his eyebrow. "Problem." he finally mutters.

Did he just call my children problems? Yes I know my children can be problematic but no one in their right mind can tell a mother their children are problems…unless you want to be cut then by all means go ahead.

"They look like him because of something called genetics, apparently his are more dominant then mine." I reply in the same tone he used with me. "And why I haven't told him is none of your business, sir."

His eyes never leave mine as he contemplates what I've said. I won't lie the man is intimidating but I deal with intimidating people daily.

"Miss. Bennet why you haven't told him _is _my business." He crosses his arms as he leans against his chair. "You see my niece, my sister, my children, and myself are the only family my nephew has."

Richard had already mentioned before that there was only two Darcy's left. But he had never mentioned the fact that there was very little family of his in general. I for one am use to big families; I've always wondered how small families must be like, so quiet and so peaceful.

"I don't deal well with people trying to manipulate or hurt my family. And I especially don't deal well with _gold-digger's._" He puts emphasis on the last word letting me know that he thinks I'm one. His once sincere face morphs into a look of disgust, I know with just that look that he thinks of me as something worse than the gum stuck to the bottom of shoes. "Who's paying you? Is it Catherine?" The questions come faster and his calm demeanor is being lost by every word he spits. "Is she paying you to keep quite? I swear if she is I will bloody make you regret the day you agreed."

It would have been easier just to say that I had no idea what he was talking about that I didn't even know who Catherine was but of course I'm Elizabeth Bennet and life hates me. So what do I do? I laugh. Yep, I laughed right in his face, the nerve of this man to call me a gold digger. I would feel insulted if I just didn't find it damn right funny.

I have the tendency to laugh in serious occasions, there was this time that Charlottes grandfather died so I went to the funeral. She was in the middle of her eulogy when I busted out laughing. Charlotte had to tell everyone that I had a disease that made me laugh when I wanted to cry.

"Please enlighten me Miss. Bennet as to what I have said that you have found excruciatingly hilarious."

"I'm not a gold digger." Is all I respond trying to catch my breath.

"Then how do you pay the apartment you have here in Manhattan? You do realize apartments like the one you have do not come cheap."

"Of course I realize that, but it's not my apartment. The firm at which I work at is paying half of the rent. It was one of the benefits I have." Of course I don't tell him that they only agreed to pay half the rent for four months then I'm on my own.

He leans in his chair and his face relaxes, "You're a lawyer." Not a question but a statement.

"Yes."

"Well that explains a lot." He gives me a half a smile and I wonder what he thought I did for a living. Probably scam guys or maybe he really thought I was receiving money from the Catherine woman.

I know I should explain to him I don't want him thinking the worst of me. I try to breathe as I think of how to say what I want to express. I look over at Richard and the children who are in a deep discussion. Here goes nothing.

"Your nephew and I met some years ago when I visited London. We became friends quite quickly…" my voice trails off as I think of the memories I had with William. James Fitzwilliam has become quite as he listens attentively to me. "I didn't know his last name and he didn't know mine. So when I returned home I discovered I was pregnant but I had no way of telling him. So I went back to England to find him but I never did. I didn't see him again until some months ago but by then the kids have already grown to hate him." I don't mention the fact that William only slept with me and left nor the fact that he wants nothing to do with me and practically loathes me.

I look over at the elder Fitzwilliam who looks stuck in a complicated puzzle. He scrunches his eyebrows as he's deep in concentration. "So what you're telling me is that you never knew who my nephew was?"

Did he hear anything I said? "If I knew who he was then I would have contacted him when I got pregnant."

"Do you know who he is now?" He asks in all seriousness.

"Yes actually I do, he's William Darcy."

He shakes his head as if I've answered the question wrong.

"No, I'm asking you if you know _who _he _is_?"

This gets me puzzled a little bit. Of course I know who he is. I don't understand the question. But in my silence and confusion he must have found his answer because he just smiles a tiny smile that if you weren't paying attention you wouldn't have noticed. Why would he smile? He's hiding something. I just don't know what.

"Then why don't you tell him now? Any women in your situation would after they knew who he was…"I don't answer and he thinks I might have not understood his question because he just shrugs and says, "Child support and everything."

And there's the question I was dreading.

Why has Elizabeth Bennet not said anything?

"I already…tried…" I tell him with embarrassment.

Everyone thinks it's easy to just say it but its not. All the times I've thought of telling him it comes out all wrong in my head. How can you tell a person they're parents? I bet Google might have an answer for that. And yes I believe wholeheartedly that Google has the answer to every question in the world. You want to know how to disappear those stretch marks from your boob by using natural home grown treatments. Look it up I bet the answer will be in Google. Want to know if that mole in your left butt cheek is cancerous? Google. Oh you don't know if the groceries you just bought and forgot in the car are still eatable? Google.

I rely on Google for everything. Unfortunately when my conscious attacks me in the middle of the night and won't let me sleep I go to Google and search 'how to tell a person he's a father', but sadly Google disappoints.

Not that my ideas are any better, I have the worst ideas of how to tell Darcy he got me pregnant. I could just go up to him and say 'hey, so remember that one time we did the do? Well do you remember that class in high school where they taught us about sex and said that even having sex once can get you pregnant? Surprise! It's fucking true.'

Or maybe 'congratulations your seed is USDA approved and you just planted it in the most fertile land. Where you only need to plant it once and it sprouts'….oh my god I'm terrible at this.

James Fitzwilliam starts chuckling, I start freaking out that maybe he could tell what I was thinking but that thought quickly disappears when I see his green eyes starring behind me deep in thought. "I practically raised William, so I know almost everything about him. He kind of reminds me of James and Olivia." I look over to where there at, David smiling wildly as he talks with Richard swinging his hands left and right trying to describe something. The other two are whispering something to each other.

I realize that James Fitzwilliam must have spent some time already talking with them. He must have already analyzed them and seen how they act. He must think they have no social skills.

I want to glare at Richard right now. If it wasn't because of him I wouldn't be in this situation trying to explain myself to his father about why I haven't told his nephew about the children.

I mean come on people everyone has secrets! Lord knows I have a bunch of secrets. And no, not the bad secrets like I have a dead person underneath the stairs 'a la' Edgar Allen Poe.

Smaller, embarrassing secrets.

Like for example:

**Secret Number 1- Contrary to what I've told everyone I actually weigh 135 not 125 like my driver's license says. But in my defense I was planning on going on a diet.**

**Secret Number 2- I sometimes stalk Justin Timerberlake at night to find out where he's at because I still hold on to the idea he will one day marry me.**

**Secret Number 3- I once tasted my own breast milk accidently…okay, not accidently but I was really curious to know how it tasted.**

**Secret Number 4- I killed , not mom like I made Jane believe. In my defense I swear I didn't see him when I pulled out of the driveway. Stupid cat.**

My point is everyone has secrets but people don't go around telling other people to spill on them. That's just rude.

So as I see it people shouldn't be telling me to tell my biggest secret of all.

Plus, I'll probably deny it if Darcy ever questions me about it.

The technique has worked for me in numerous occasions.

'Lizzie sweetie, did you eat the cookies?"

'No', I would say even though I had chocolate all over my mouth.

'Are you sure?' My mom would repeat.

'Yes.'

'Lizzie sweetie, did you hit Judith Gritchen?'

'No.' I would say with Judith nose bleed all over my shirt.

'Lizzie have you seen ?'

'No, I haven't, have you checked his bed?"

You see that's the best technique deny, deny, deny. Even, if you've been caught.

Of course it doesn't help when people are behind you pushing you to stop denying.

"Why do the children hate him? Have you spoken badly about him to them?" He asks as I almost choke on a piece of my steak.

"I haven't spoken about him period. Until some months ago they hadn't even asked about him." Then a thought occurs to me. "Why? Are you going to tell him?"

He smiles a small smile, "I give you a week and a half If you haven't told Darcy what he is rightfully suppose to know by law then I will." And right after that he goes back to eating as if he hadn't said something that would change my children's life forever.

"The kids hate him."

"Well then in that case if I were you I would start as soon as possible to try to change their opinion of the person who gave them half their genes. Or how would you have felt if your mother had hidden you from your father?" He says in the most polite English accent I have ever heard. "As a matter of fact why don't you start right now?" He turns to the children to get their attention. "Children, your mother was just telling me the most splendid story about your father, do you want to hear it?"

Groans emit from the triplets. I give James Fitzwilliam an 'I told you look'.

He ignores them. "Well we're the adults here, so you're going to listen what your mother has to say." He turns to me and motions for me to continue. And I'm too scared of what he might say if I don't come up with a story. He might even call Darcy himself.

I have no 'splendid' story about Darcy. No story that will change the stubborn minds of my children. No story that will fill in the huge hole that is missing in our family where the father should be. No story that will make them forget that he has been absent all these years. No story that will make them forgive him for all the talent shows, soccer games, chess tournaments, and school plays he missed. I have no 'magical' story.

My phone rings saying that I receive a text and I quickly look down.

_From: Richard Fitzwilliam_

_Time: 5:01_

_When was the moment you realized you were going to sleep with him? In that moment you must have realized something special about him. Tell them that story but keep it PG._

In that moment I get transported back in time to that night. Memories I have kept stored bombarding me in seconds. Memories I had tried to forget.

"You're father; he's really different than me. We're complete opposites actually." I tell them as memories keep flooding back. I don't check to see if they're paying attention. I know they are. "I'm an Extrovert he's an Introvert. I'm loud he's quiet. I like meeting new people he hates being around people. I like trying new foods and I'm pretty sure his food pyramid consists of only four things. Overall if you saw us together you would never think we would even get along. We are so different that I think water and fire have more things in common than we do. Plus there's 8 billion of people in the world so the chances of us meeting were very slim, and when you add to the equation that we were from different countries that chance becomes nearly impossible. But we beat the odds and we met each other and not only did we meet each other but the rippling fire inside me actually liked the calmness of water he had inside of him. We were so different that I think that was the reason we liked each other, the very last night I saw your father I convinced him to break into an abandoned hotel." I smile at the thought of that last night. "He had never done something 'so reckless' he said." I even copy Williams English accent which makes Richard snort. "But I'm happy I met William even if he is rigid, anti social, quiet, and a picky eater. Even if he is a horrible at finding stuff even a simple glass in the kitchen, I liked all his little quirks. Even his glasses and obsession with wrinkle free clothing. I'm glad I met him because he gave me you three and I think I could never repay him for that."

I look at the kids; the only one looking at me is David who looks like he was enrapt with my little story. The other two are looking down at their plates.

"That was a beautiful speech but you do know how you can repay him back." James Fitzwilliam whispers to me.

I ignore him as I go back to eating my dinner. After some minutes everything goes back to normal and I hear David asking Richard something.

After some minutes a thought hits me. "What do you mean when you say they remind you of Darcy?" I ask because honestly I want to hear the point of view of someone else of how my children look like their father. And not the obvious things like the hair color or their eyes. But the subtler, less noticeable stuff, for example I've always wanted to know if the boys inherited the way they sleep sprawled over the bed from him or if it's just them.

He smiles as he starts cutting his steak. "In the way they walk and talk, the way they express themselves, when Olive is explaining something it's as if William was the one explaining it. And you wouldn't know this but David and him have the same laugh," he then leans and whispers so only I could hear. "You're raising geniuses, Elizabeth." He smiles proudly as if he was the one that gave them their DNA.

He must have figured out what I was thinking because he quickly adds, "I have a lot of reasons to be proud of your children, Elizabeth." He's calling me Elizabeth now. He must feel comfortable around me, now that he has seen that I'm no gold digger.

"I have three sons; you've obviously already met Richard who's my youngest. If you think Richard is immature you should meet the other two." He shakes his head as grunts, clearly not happy with his son's behavior. "None of them are married; they love the bachelor life too much. I have resigned myself to believe I will never have grandchildren. My wife is an only child and her parents both have died so there's no family in her side. I have two sisters, Darcy's mother who passed away very young she had two children. She married a bloke who was also an only child." He stops as he thinks of something and I swear I see a flicker of pain in his eyes. I have no idea of where this conversation is going or why he's telling me this.

"I have an older sister who never had children, but her husband had a daughter from a previous marriage. So as you can see I have a limited number of family members. Yesterday I truly believed the Fitzwilliam blood would end. My sons don't want to have children, my niece..." and in that moment I see the pain clear in his eyes he's not even trying to hide it. What happened to his niece? What happened with Darcy's sister?

He shook his head and continued. "And well William I was sure he would never have children. He's to concentrated in work, if anything I had more possibilities of becoming a grandparent by my sons side who are known to be…friendly with the ladies."

I snort, what a nice way to say they were players.

He ignored my snort and continued talking, "so imagine my surprise when I learned today that Darcy not only had a child but had three!"He starts chuckling as he glances at my children. "What I want to say Elizabeth is that I consider your children like my grandchildren, and I would love for them to consider me their grandfather." He looks at me expectantly like if he's waiting for my consent.

"I would very much love that." I say smiling. Even if Darcy doesn't want anything to do with me or them at least I can give the opportunity to those who do want to be a part of my children's life a chance.

In that moment a pretty woman comes really pissed towards him. He just smiles as the blond lady starts going on and on about how he missed a conference call with some Japanese people.

She stops short when she sees who he's eating with. I notice how she smiles when she sees Richard. She passes her hand over her skirt as if to take the imaginary wrinkles off of it.

"Betty, I'm quite busy right now as you see I'm having dinner with my family. Everyone this is my PA Betty." I say hello and a small wave but her smile falls once she sees me and the children.

"These are my grandchildren James, David and Olivia and their mother, and of course you know my son Richard"

Richard at his name just looks up with a bored expression in his face. And the poor woman's face falls even more. I feel sorry for her she looks like she used to have something with Richard. Knowing Richard it was only something fun or short for him. But for her she might have really thought she was going to end up with the son of her boss, every Fairy Tale dream. But Richard Fitzwilliam is definitely _not_ Prince Charming.

I want to console her but she quickly leaves her bosses table when she's excused and I don't have time to explain to her that the kids aren't actually Richards.

"Well then," James Fitzwilliam says clapping his hands as he addresses me, "when can I have them over a day?"

* * *

><p>"I wonder what the teacher wants." I tell Richard as we enter David's school "what time is it? I don't want to be late?"<p>

"Its 6 we're not late."

I stare at him. "The appointment was at 6!" I hiss.

"Oh, then we better hurry."

Right after dinner we came straight to Miriam and Walters's school for talented children. The children seem less excited then I am. David was trying to stall me the whole time from even entering through the double doors of the school. He even feigned having the flu. Well first it was a stomach ache then an arm ache and then he swore up and down to me he was seeing ghosts and he needed to be taken home to rest because according to him just with a little sleep he would be fine. Oh my sweet dear boy you have much to learn. If you want your mother to believe you're sick you have to do better than that, I was a master at finging sickness. But now my interest is piqued the less he wants me to come the more I want to see what he's hiding from me. What is so important that the teacher would make me come a Sunday afternoon?

Numerous scenarios flash through my mind and none of them are good.

I'm actually quite happy Richard has the whole day off so he could tag along in another David-got-in-trouble-again family hike we do almost daily.

Usually Sundays I stay at home doing paperwork while the children play video games. I really don't understand how other mothers do it. Taking their children up and down to museums or parks during the weekends. Most days just getting them clean and dressed and into the car is an ordeal. By the time we're in the car I no longer want to go anywhere and thinking all the while what the hell possessed me to think I could handle all three of them in public. It's three against one and they know it, I know it and they take advantage of that especially if all 3 of them are together. By the end of the day I'm exhausted restraining myself from yelling at them in public because they're offending the teenager in McDonalds for not being able to count the change as fast as they can and trying desperately to remember if God takes the days off Sunday because he is clearly not answering my prayers.

You know it's not a good day when you have to repeat to yourself: I will not sale my children to the circus. I will not sell my children to the circus. . . . .cirucs

And that's why I don't venture outside a lot with them. Too much work.

Actually I don't venture outside without them either. I don't know how other mothers do it, leaving their kids at home without any worry. I have to call mine every ten minutes to see that one of them is not chocking on a jolly rancher, burning the house down while making a science project or worse going outside when I clearly told them not to and getting abducted and getting their organs taken out for organ trafficking.

My imagination escalates quickly when it has to do with my kids.

"Do you want me to go inside with you?" Richard asks as we stand outside the classroom door.

I shake my head. I can do this by myself. "No, it would be better if you stayed here with Olive and James, I'll call you if I need you."

I quickly enter and notice that I'm not the only mother who had to come to the school today.

Louisa is inside with a blond kid that I remember is called Robert; the evil one of the cousins. I want to snarl at the vicious thing that is in front of me that is shaped like a boy.

David groans beside me.

I feel you buddy. I feel you...

"Hello David," Louisa's son says with a tone that is not welcoming at all. He smiles probably wanting the teacher and his mother to see he is being polite. But the smile and tone is what throws him away; such a politician smile, fake as can be.

"Hello Robert." David answers in the same tone, "how's the baby killing business?" it takes me a moment to figure out that he is referring to the weapon manufacturer company Roberts father has.

"I don't know you should ask your father, we only make the tools, your dear daddy is the one who uses them." The boy responds with a snicker. I grab David before he can attack the kid who looks like one scratch on his expensive clothes would get me sued by his parents.

"David control yourself." I whisper as I sit him again in the chair beside me. I smile at Louisa. At least it's the nicer Bingley sister I got to see today and not the other witch.

I turn to look at the teacher who looks like she's in her mid-50's. I recognize her.

"Mrs. Bologna." I whisper remembering the incident with David some months ago. David snickers beside me as he hears what I said. Fortunately for me I said it so lightly that no one else heard.

"It's so nice to see you again Elizabeth." Louisa says as she stands up grabbing her purse clearly not having heard the way our sons greeted each other, or maybe she heard and preferred to ignore it. By the tone of her voice and her smile I can see she really does mean her words. "This must be your son who needs help in math." She smiles down at David who looks very confused. He raises an eyebrow at me questioningly.

"'No, that's my eldest son." I ignore David as I respond to Louisa and pray to god that neither the teacher nor David will mention that James is actually a prodigy in mathematics.

Louisa looks a little confused as she puzzles over what I said. "Oh, I've always imagined your children much younger for some reason." Her sweet English voice carries throughout the room and I'm starting to think that Louisa Hurst just ignores a lot of stuff or is just plain stupid. I told Caroline in front of her the triplet's ages.

But of course Louisa has the attention span of gnats so she just stops thinking of the puzzle and smiles as she pulls something out of her purse. "I was going to give this to Jane to give to you but I figure I can give it to you now personally." She hands me the pretty small envelope, "it's my anniversary party this Saturday it's going to be at The Netherfield here in Manhattan. I would love for you to attend unfortunately there's a no children policy but I've already invited all of your family." Her voice is too chirpy. But then my mind stops.

She said she invited my family.

She…invited. .

Oh god no.

Just the thought of Charles Bingley meeting my family is giving me hives. Poor Jane.

"Thanks for the invite, I'll try to see if I can find someone to babysit the kids" that means I'm definitely not going. I am going to avoid that scene as much as possible. Oh, the embarrassment.

**Secret Number 4**-** I put my children as excuses to avoid going places.**

"Oh, they can stay with the nanny of my son; he's supposed to help your son this Saturday with his maths right?"

Oh right that… I can feel David glaring at me from beside me. Please don't say nothing, please David shut up for once.

I can feel him wanting to say something but then he finally sighs.

I let out a breath of relief.

"You have a nanny?" David asks mockingly. So he can't be quite for a second. But at least he didn't tell everyone that I was lying.

"David." I say with a warning tone as I grab his arm, the last thing I need is for him to get in a fight with Louisa's devil spawn.

"Yeah, it's a thing that people that can afford one have. But you wouldn't know that since you dad is just a mall cop." The blond boy says hauntingly.

I look over at Louisa to see if she will do anything about this but she's started talking to the teacher. I guess it's up to me I'm about to open my mouth when David beats me.

"Well at least my dad came today where's yours? Oh right, probably passed out drunk in a couch. And he's not a mall cop, he's an FBI Special Agent you cretinous, ignorant brute."

Ouch that hurt, I've met Louisa's husband and he was a drunk. That must be a sore subject for the blond boy by the way the boys face falls immediately after David stops talking.

Olive didn't exaggerate when she said that they couldn't stand the Hurst cousins. I quickly grab David who looks about to attack the blonde boy.

"Don't be mean." I whisper in his ear as I grab him by his arm.

"He started it!"

The blue eyed boy looks like he wants to punch David till the next red moon. This is not going to end well.

Fortunately Louisa decides it's time to leave with her son. Now it's only the teacher and the two of us left.

"Miss. Bennet I called you in today because as you know David has had too many suspensions and detentions in the past month to even count…"

She continues on and on about his behavior and how he has been acting out but what I'm stuck in is that she said 'as you know'. No, actually I don't know, he hasn't showed nor mentioned anything to me. I look over to where David is sliding further and further down his chair with every bad thing the teacher tells me he's done.

"Why do you say I should know?" I interrupt her as she's explaining the fight that he recently had with Louisa's son that made her call someone to pick him up from school. "I had no idea this was going on." I add.

This leaves the teacher with a confused expression and looking between me and David.

"Im sorry Miss. Bennet I thought you would have known." She starts taking some sheets of papers from a file folder that looks very thick. Probably it's David's.

"You see he's been getting his slips signed." She starts passing me some red slips with a signature at the bottom. "And here are the copies of the times his father comes and picks him up from school when he gets suspended."

I look up startled when she says this. His father? This time I look carefully to the signatures.

Richard Fitzwilliam.

Of course.

I look over at David who looks like he wants the earth to split in two and be eaten by it. "Explain this?" I say trying to hold on to my patience and not look like a psychotic mother in front of his teacher.

"I knew how you would react so I called him." He shrugs his shoulders as if it was no big deal. But his eyes tell me something entirely different; he's looking everywhere but at me. He knows what he did was very, very wrong.

"I need to talk to Richard." Is all I say as I stand up. I don't know who I should be yelling at right now, David who started all this or Richard who never told me what my son was up to.

Or maybe it's my own fault for letting it get this far. I knew David was telling the kids of his school that Richard was his father, and I let it slide because I didn't want the Hurst boys suspecting that Darcy was their actual father, but this? Going behind my back and not letting me know that my son had gotten into a fight? David was never this misbehaved back in Atlanta.

"Miss. Bennet I also have to talk to you about your other two children." She starts shuffling papers around her desks and makes and 'aha' sound when she finally finds what she was looking for.

"Everyone knows that your children are far advance for their age. Your son and daughter are scheduled to take a very special exam, have they mentioned this to you?"

I shake my head. What haven't they told me? What else are my own children hiding from me?

"Well the test is given to only to the students who are ranked in the top 2% in hopes of being in the U.S Junior Mathematical Olympiad team." She pauses as she looks down at her papers, "your children are something very special ."

They ranked in the top 2%. I remember Olive telling me something about a test but I was going over depositions I remember being in a hurry and not paying her much attention. I'm a horrible mother.

"But I'm worried about them" her voice is full of concern now. Worried about them? What have they done? A million thoughts run through my mind of everything they could have done. "Your daughter Olive, she's a nice girl. Very quite doesn't really socialize with other kids even though all these children in this school are as gifted as she is. And sometimes we will be in the middle of class and she will just stand up and walk out of class. And your son he's worse."

How come I don't know this? Why hasn't anyone told me about what has been happening with my children? Then a thought occurs to me.

"Have you asked her why she's walked out of class?"

She smiles and nods. "She says it's because 'genius cannot be kept in a small room'. Then she showed me this." She pulls out a picture of something that looks like a chip, a magnified version of a chip. And I finally get it. There's nothing wrong with my daughter. I start to laugh and the teacher just stares at me.

"She does that to me a lot to. I'll be talking to her and she'll just walk out. She doesn't do it to be rude it's just that she's stuck in her own little world and sometimes she thinks of a solution to a problem and she has to tell her brother. But I'll talk to her about it."

Her face falls and becomes serious when she hears me say this and I swear her face looks exactly the same like the time I told Richard the girl he thought was cute was actually a guy.

"Have you thought…" she pauses and she looks like she's fighting over how to tell me what she's going to say, "that maybe…they might…have Asperger's?"

**Secret Number 5-** **I've done research to see if the kids have Aspergers.**

They don't.

Yes, I want to answer. That thought has crossed my mind since they were born. Since I noticed that they weren't going to be normal children. Since the moment I saw them destroy an old computer and then rebuild it again. Since the moment that I saw my four year old daughters pet turtle die but she didn't shed a tear but the moment her food touched it was like a million little baby turtles had died.

I look over at David who has his jaw clenched and he's looking at the floor. He doesn't like what she's insinuating.

"I've already taken them to a psychologist he says it's just OCD."

"I understand what you're feeling now, probably you're trying to deny it but if you could please give me your consent to get an evaluation done to them."

She thinks I'm trying to deny it? No I've checked and re-checked and read numerous books and my children do not have Asperger's! They just have no communication skills.

" ?" She says as she tries to get my attention.

"Yes?"

"I know how you must be feeling right now, but this is for the good of your children."

"The psychologist says it's just OCD." I repeat.

"It's sometimes good to get a second opinion."

She's wrong. I know she's wrong, I'll prove to her that she's wrong.

"I think we should start with Olivia first since she has more of the known traits of Aspergers."

I'm numb, I want to yell and scream at her that she's wrong.

"It's just OCD." It's as if I have lost all my vocabulary and that's the only thing I can say.

"These are some of the characteristics, nod if Olivia has one: lac-"

I stand up grabbing David's arm before she can start listing them, my legs almost giving up on me, I don't want to hear the characteristics, I don't want to hear them, if I do I might start crying. "Yeah, sure you can do the evaluation." Is all I mutter as I go through the door.

"Is everything all right?" Richard asks as I get to them.

I smile forcefully; at least his face distracts me from what the teacher just mentioned as he reminds me that I'm mad at him for hiding how badly David has been behaving. "You have a lot of explaining to do."

* * *

><p>"You have a client at 9,12, and 4 tomorrow and Mrs. Griffin called she said that she wants to talk to you about if alimony would be possible in her case. Also there's a staff meeting at 10 in the morning tomorrow and Ester wants to know if you've already gone through the depositions." Lydia's high heels click on the marble floor as she follows me from the court room.<p>

An easy win really. Sleazy husband gets caught cheating and the wife wants a divorce and also majority of his possessions.

Awe, the benefits of love.

They say love is like falling. And I totally agree. It's like falling from a skyscraper you might think as your going down 'hey geesh you know this isn't really as bad as I thought it would be' but then BAM the medics are scrapping your intestines out of the pavement.

The judge who is all for female empowerment gave me an easy win.

Even thought Mrs. Davis really did not deserve it, I caught her making out with her husband's best friend. Not that I really care, all I care is that she pays up front. I can lie my curls off and convince a person from the Sahara to buy sand. That's how good I am. Not that I'm proud of what I do. But I do what I must to put food in the table.

I stop walking as I remember that I haven't even read over the depositions Ester wants. As I stop Lydia runs into me.

I turn around and glare at my little sister who my mother made me hire even though she has no qualifications for the job.

"Lydia what have I told you? Don't walk to close to me!"

"Sorry Liz," she at least has the decency to look flustered. "Oh, by the way while you were in there James called asking when you were going to get home; he's getting annoyed by mom."

"He's just going to have to get use to people" I keep on walking as I look through my messages it's a Thursday, and it's almost six in the afternoon. Or is it night?

"Oh, mom also said to remind you that Saturday in the morning you have to come and have breakfast with all of us to welcome our Cousin Collins." Lydia rolls her eyes as she says Collins.

We all hate him.

I think the word stuck up was invented just for him.

We call him Bill Colitis because he gives you the same symptoms of Colitis when you see him.

An unexpected urge to throw up.

"Oh, and also mom called she wanted me to tell you that-"

"Mom?" And sure enough it's my mother walking down the hallway with a frown in her face and grabbing James arm tightly as she pushes him to me.

"That she's coming down here to drop the kids off." Lydia finishes.

"Your son!" Is all she says as she stops in front of me. I don't even want to know what he did…or worse what he said. I can see other people looking our way and giving me a pity look and walking away.

I groan. The day is not going well.

"Dad?" I hear Olive ask excitedly.

Nope scratch that the day is going horrible. I turn around and see Richard with a file in his hands and standing with another person beside him. He looks up when he hears Olives voice calling him.

"Mango!" He walks quickly to where we're at and spins her around.

"So that's their father?" My mother asks beside me her eyes going wide as she notices Richard's suit and gun holster being visible by spinning Olive around.

This day is the worst day of my life. But a little voice that sounds like Jane tells me that it could be worse…it could be Darcy my mother is meeting.

Richard quickly greets the boys and turns to me with a wide smile.

"What are you doing here Richard?" I try to distract him from speaking to my mother.

"'Oh, I just came to see the sentencing of a crime boss that I had the honor of helping put behind bars."

"You're a cop!" My mother says very excited as her eyes roam him.

My mother _loves_ men in uniform, especially soldiers and cops. If you have a gun and a uniform you are now my mother and sisters favorite person.

"Not exactly." He says laughing a charming laugh that makes only idiots melt. I look to my mother and Lydia who look like they just fell under his spell. Yep, I was right, only idiots fall for him. "FBI" he says as he takes his badge from his suit pocket to show it to them.

"Isn't Kitty's boyfriend a cop?" My mom asks Lydia.

I scavenge my brain for anything Kitty might have told me about her boyfriend. I left the house when the twins were only 12 now it's so strange to hear about them having boyfriends and Kitty talking about getting engaged.

"Yeah he's a cop." Lydia answers.

"You must know him!" My mother gushes.

"What's his name?" Richard asks.

"Daniel." I respond.

Lydia shakes her head.

"Danny." I say snapping my fingers.

"God, Lizzie sometimes I wonder how you remember your own name!" Lydia says rolling her eyes. "His name is Denny not Daniel or Danny."

"No, I do not know him." Richard tells my mother. Of course he wouldn't. Richard told me recently that his job is more to oversee things he's a special agent in charge. In other words he looks after other agents but he told me the assistant Director is still his boss here in N.Y. So obviously Richard wouldn't remember every cop's name.

"Of course you wouldn't, Danny hates the feds." Lydia says rolling her eyes again. She notices how that sounds so she quickly adds, "every cop hates Feds."

Richard instead of being mad starts laughing. "Yeah cops don't like us." He says it as if this was a universal truth.

My mother tiered of not being part of the conversation adds, "Well then you must know my brother in law then. He's the DA."

Richard raises his eyebrows quite impressed by this. "The DA is your brother?"

"Yes, Phillip is married to my eldest sister." She says quite proudly.

"Yeah I know him. He was the prosecutor in this case."

When he says this I finally notice the guy who is standing slightly behind Richard as if he was waiting for him. He's dressed in a suit and tie. His bronzed hair is cut short and his face is plastered with an ever present smile.

I know him.

I could never forget that face.

I was in school in Georgia; I was very pregnant by then with the triplets. Everyone knew who he was. He had quite a reputation for sleeping around.

I remember the day when he approached me. We were taking some of the same classes and he would always choose the seat behind me.

He was always laughing and joking around.

I avoided him as much as possible. I never liked those types of guys.

I think I was not clear enough that I wanted nothing to do with him because he approached me after class one day.

He smiled that smile that I now hate and told me as he put it, "he had never screwed a pregnant girl."

I punched him.

Hard.

And I don't regret it.

Like if I would sleep with him, and especially just to fulfill one of his sick dreams of sleeping with a pregnant girl.

"Why if it isn't Elizabeth Bennet." He says as I walk towards him leaving Richard behind with my family and kids.

I really don't want to be around him nor talk to him but I really want to know what he's doing here.

"Well there's 'a face I prayed I would never see again." I grit through my teeth as he chuckles, "what are you doing here Wickham?"

"Ouch." He puts his hand over his heart acting like if he was hurt but still smiling that sickening smile. "You're referring to me by Wickham what happened to George? I remembered I loved the way you said George."

"If I remember correctly the only time I ever called you by your first name was when I punched you and told you I never wanted to see your face again George Wickham. Very fond memories indeed." I say sarcastically.

He ignores me. "Cute family," he says as he glances behind me. "You should have told me the dad of your kids was Richard. They look like him."

"What are you doing here Wickham?" I ask exasperated not clarifying that Richard is not the triplet's father.

"I'm working; we did go to school together Lizzie. Did you stick to family law like you wanted?"

"Are you still defending criminals?" I snap.

He chuckles. "So much fire Lizzie, that's why I liked you. And as a matter of fact I was speaking to your husband about a case I just lost. It surprised me to hear that your uncle was the one prosecuting. Please congratulate him from my part."

"He's not my husband." I automatically say thinking a lie could only go so far. But I still don't correct him in the assumption that Richard's the father of my children.

He raises his eyebrow surprised, and then he shakes his head. "Yeah Richard is a very nice and charming man but no one sticks around him for that long because of that horrible family he has and all."

My ears perk at this. Horrible family?

He has a horrible family? I need to know this kind of information if I'm going to let the children spend time with Richards's father. We already went shopping with him two days ago.

What if he's a sick pedophile?

"What do you mean?" My mother instincts rapidly kicking, I start cursing myself for getting this information from Wickham. But, he is a criminal defense lawyer so he must know about the dark secrets of the rich.

"You must have already met his cousin right? William Darcy?"

I look uncomfortably around the hallway. Do I know him? The question of the century.

"I met him some months ago." Is all I elaborate to him.

"Yeah, he's something. And I know I'm not the epitome of a good man and I recognize my flaws and mistakes. I admit I was a dick in the past. But man Darcy takes the prize for being the hugest jerk." He looks down at his shoes and then quickly smiles up to me.

My curiosity is killing me. I know George and I know he is not the greatest person alive like he said. And I also know Darcy. And I have my reasons for hating Darcy but what are Wickham's?

"Why do you say he's a jerk?" I ask, my curiosity winning out.

"All I can tell you is that Darcy leaves people when they need him the most. He at first acts like the nicest person you will ever meet but once he gets what he wants he vanishes. Trust me I know this by experience. My dad use to be the Darcy's lawyer. William Darcy used his old man until he died. And then he used me. And then poof he vanishes." He snaps his fingers to make the idea even clearer.

I know better than to trust Wickham's words. He's a lawyer and also like he said a dick. Not a good combination. "How do I know you're telling me the truth?"I ask skeptically.

"You don't, but the truth always manifests itself, trust me when I say you will one day meet the real Darcy and understand what I'm telling you." He glances behind me and I feel Richards's presence behind me.

"I have to speak to you Richard." Wickham tells him. He waves good bye to me and goes inside a room probably to wait for him.

"What did he say?" Richard asks.

I shrug my shoulders, "nothing."

He bites his lips and looks like he wants to tell me something but then shakes his head. "Don't talk to him that much. That guy is bad news."

I roll my eyes. I already know Wickham is bad news I went to school with him, but as always Richard is always trying to act the part of an older brother.

Richard says good bye and leaves quickly. I grab the kids and as I drive home I can't stop thinking about what Wickham told me. He said Darcy only uses people and then vanishes. And even though I know Wickham is a liar I can't stop thinking that what he said was true. He described Darcy as perfectly as I know him. He used me and then…poof he vanished.

I hate you William Darcy.

I really do.

**Not So Secret Number 6-** **I will do anything for my children.**

Even lie and start talking good about Darcy to the children. Because like it or not he is their father, and I will have to tell him the truth before the week is over.

* * *

><p><strong>So we met Wickham! I hate Wickham so I cold never make Elizabeth start dating him like other stories I have read.<strong>

**Thanks for reading this story, I know this isn't a great chapter, its actually a filler chapter. **

**Comment what you thought of this chapter. And like I said I know it wasn't that great, so you don't have to remind me in the comments.**

**Next chapter is the Netherfield party and since I owe you guys because I haven't posted in a while, I'll just say that in the next chapter Darcy will definitely meet one of the children. So for everyone mentioning how Darcy hasn't met the children yet, in the next chapter he will...well one of them, I think you all know which child that will be.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**-Grace**


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